52 Jump Street
by RedQ
Summary: "You want me to do what now?" Barry asked. "We need someone to go undercover," Singh explained, "Someone to pose as a high school student, to get more information about the supplier." Barry snorted. "Very funny, sir," he said, "You had me going for a second there."
1. The Request

**Disclaimer: 21 Jump Street rip off—Flash version**

* * *

 **The Request**

* * *

Captain Singh sat patiently behind his desk, waiting for Joe to control his laughter. Joe wiped a tear from his eye and sighed in amusement as he tried to get a hold of himself.

"You know he's never going to go for this, right?" Joe said, once he was able to speak.

The captain rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"If he doesn't, then I don't know what we're going to do," he said seriously, causing Joe to sober up, "This new batch of vertigo has already spread here from Starling. We can't afford for it to spread even more."

Joe nodded seriously. Their conversation was interrupted then by a quiet knock on the door.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Barry asked, timidly poking his head through the door.

"Come in and close the door, Allen," the captain instructed.

Barry did as he was told and moved to sit down next to Joe in front of Singh's desk, glancing curiously back and forth between the two of them. He knew instantly that something was up just from the looks on their faces.

"What's going on?" Barry asked curiously.

"You remember that kid from last week?" Captain Singh asked him, "The high schooler?"

Barry visibly shuddered.

"The drug overdose," he replied quietly, "Yes, I remember. I passed all the information onto the medical examiner. He was going to run the tox screen."

"He did," Singh said with a nod, "And the kid tested positive for vertigo."

Barry's eyes widened.

"I thought that was just in Starling," he said, "I thought it was controlled now."

"Well, it appears that a new batch was developed here in Central," Singh informed him, "It's not the Count this time. Someone else is cooking it somewhere, and they're distributing it to young kids here in the city. It's been mostly in high schools lately."

"I can start trying to track them down right away, sir," Barry said seriously, "Do you have any leads for me to work off of?"

"We have nothing," the captain told him bitterly.

A sigh escaped Joe's lips.

"We've been interrogating different users and known dealers out on the street," Joe told him, "But we've got nothing. All we know about it is that it seems to be infiltrating primarily high schools lately. Someone's targeting the young demographic. They seem to be keeping it only within that age group for now—not that there have been any older users, but it's mostly high school kids who are taking it."

"So what do you need from me?" Barry asked, trying to figure out where he fit into this equation.

The captain would have only called him in here if he had wanted something from him.

"If you don't have any leads for me to track down," Barry said slowly, "Or any evidence for me to process, what do you need me for?"

Joe and Singh both glanced at each other before answering.

"Allen," Singh said, "I know you're not a cop and that you're a forensic scientist, but I really need you to do something outside your scope of duties."

Barry nodded slowly, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"This would be completely voluntary," the captain clarified, "I'm not going to make you do this if you don't want to. It's not an order; it's only a request."

"What do you want me to do, Captain?" Barry asked, anxious now to hear what Singh wanted from him.

Joe and the captain were both acting so serious, which was why Barry was surprised when a small laugh escaped Joe's lips.

"He wants you to go back to high school," Joe choked, laughing again.

Barry's brows furrowed in confusion. He looked back at the captain.

"You want me to do _what_ now?" he asked.

"We need someone to go undercover," Singh explained, "Someone to pose as a high school student, to get more information about the supplier."

Barry snorted.

"Very funny, sir," he said, "You had me going for a second there."

"This is no joke, Mr. Allen," the captain said seriously, "You're the only one in our department who can do this. Our youngest detective is Detective Thawne, and he doesn't look _nearly_ young enough to pass for a high schooler. I doubt he could even pass for a _college_ student, let alone a high school kid. You look a bit too old, too, to be honest, but you're the only one who looks young enough to _maybe_ pull it off."

"You've got to be kidding me," Barry said, no longer laughing, " _High school_?"

"Like I said, Allen," Singh continued, "It would be completely voluntary. I know you just got out of a coma and are still adjusting after returning from your medical leave. I would understand if you don't want to take this on right now. I know this isn't within your scope of duties, so it would be completely within your right to decline the assignment if you're not willing to do it."

"We really need this, Bar," Joe said softly, laughter gone, "We keep hitting dead ends. Kids are _dying_."

Barry sighed and shot a brief glare at Joe. Of course, he would try to guilt him into this. He had to go and pull the "dying kids" card.

"How long would I have to do it for?" he asked quietly, reeling at the idea of going back to high school.

He was a grown ass man, and now he was being asked to pretend to be some teenager.

"That's up to you," Singh said simply, "It depends on how long it takes you to find the distributor. You can always drop out at any time, though. You wouldn't be committed."

Barry sighed and buried his face his hands. He could feel Joe and Singh's eyes on him, waiting for his answer. The pressure from their eyes alone took away any illusion of a choice in the matter. Even if it was in his right to decline the assignment, Barry couldn't do that. He couldn't just let them down like that. He could let kids continue to overdose on this stuff.

"Fine," he said reluctantly, "I'll do it."

The captain let out a sigh of relief.

"How am I going to stay caught up in the lab, though?" Barry asked quickly then, "If I'm going to be in high school every day, how am I going to get all my other cases done? You're still going to need a CSI on staff to handle other incoming cases."

"Don't worry about that," the captain dismissed easily, smiling now that Barry had agreed, "Southworth will take over your lab for you again, like he did when you were on medical leave. I don't want you being distracted by other cases. I just want you to focus on this one mission."

Barry sighed. He couldn't believe he was going to do this. He was really going to go undercover for Singh, something he probably would have found really cool, had it not been for the fact that he was going undercover as a _high schooler_. As they were standing up to leave the office, Barry was still in shock by what he had just agreed to.

"You really put me on the spot in there," he accused, after Joe had closed the door to Singh's office behind them.

Joe smiled apologetically.

"We both know you would have said yes either way," he pointed out, "You've never been good at telling the captain no."

Barry sighed. He couldn't help but agree with Joe. He had never been able to refuse his boss anything. He was just too easygoing that way. Barry had never turned down an assignment. Really, he had never been given the option to.

* * *

Singh wanted them to keep this mission a secret. The less people who knew about it, the less likely Barry's cover would be blown. For now, the only people who knew about it were Singh, Joe and Barry. Even Eddie, Joe's own partner, was in the dark about it. They had only a week to prepare before East Central High's winter break ended and the second school semester started. Singh took care of everything, getting Barry "transferred" to East Central High and enrolling him in all his classes.

"Here's your identity," Singh said, sliding a file across his desk towards Barry.

Barry picked it up and opened it curiously.

"Your name is Grant West," Singh told him, "You're a senior and you're transferring from Starling High."

"West?" Barry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Joe didn't tell you?" Singh asked, "You're going to be moving back in with him for the duration of your assignment."

When Barry looked puzzled, Singh continued.

"High school students don't have their own apartments," he said simply.

"Right," Barry said, looking through the rest of his file.

He paused when he turned the page.

"Glee club?" he asked, looking at the list of extracurriculars.

"We want you to be enrolled in as many groups and clubs as you can," Singh explained, "The more people you meet, the more likely we're going to figure out which kids can lead you to the supplier. That means spending time with a variety of different groups."

"I don't sing," Barry said flatly, "Or dance."

"I didn't say you had to be _good_ at any of it," Singh said gruffly, "Just get to know all the people in your assigned groups. There's chemistry club listed somewhere on that list. I'm sure that one's more your speed."

Barry continued to look at the list.

"Track team?"

"Joe told me to put that one in there," he said, shrugging, "Thought you'd get a kick out of it for some reason. He said you used to be on the team back in high school."

Barry smiled.

"Yeah," he said, "Yeah, I was."

After going through some of the finer details with Singh, Barry was ready to go. He was nervous as hell. He had only just agreed to this a few days ago. He felt like he didn't have nearly enough time to mentally prepare, and now, bright and early on Monday morning, he would be going back to high school.


	2. Seventeen Again

**Seventeen Again**

* * *

"So, _why_ are you moving back in again?" Iris asked him.

Barry gave her a somewhat hurt look.

"Not that I'm complaining!" she said quickly, "I'm so happy you're moving back in! It'll be like old times, like high school all over again."

"You have no idea," Barry muttered, unpacking one of his boxes into his old bedroom.

He had the whole weekend to get all his stuff moved in before going to his first day of school.

"There was a gas leak in Barry's building," Joe said, walking into the small bedroom, carrying a large box.

"Right," Barry confirmed, catching on quickly, "I'm just staying here until it gets cleared up. They said it could take a while."

"Why you ever moved into that death trap, I'll never know," Iris said, opening one of Barry's boxes to help him unpack.

"Hey, I like my apartment," Barry said defensively.

"Barry, you said yourself that the laundry machines in your building have been broken for almost a month," she pointed out.

"Still love my apartment, though," Barry said with a grin.

She just smiled at him in amusement.

So far, up to this point, Barry had only seen the downsides of his new assignment. He hadn't realized how nice it was going to be, living back at home again with Joe and Iris. Joe had been playing it cool, acting like it was no big deal, but Barry could tell he was ecstatic to have both his kids in his house again. He hadn't ever admitted to it, but he had actually been kind of sad when Barry had moved out in the first place. He had tried to play it cool by joking about how he was going to turn Barry's old bedroom into a gym—something he still hadn't gotten around to doing—but deep down, Joe had missed Barry's presence in his household. It just wasn't the same without him.

"Hey, Joe," Barry said once Iris had left the room, "Do you think I could borrow your car to get to school on Monday? You can drive your squad car instead, right?"

Joe gave him a serious look.

"You better not crash it this time," he said flatly.

"I was sixteen!" Barry laughed, "And I wasn't the one driving. Iris was."

"I still hold you just as responsible, though," Joe said, but then he laughed, "Yeah, you can take the car. I'm not so evil that I'm going to make you ride the school bus. You'd probably be late and miss it every morning anyways."

Barry laughed.

"I was going to get my own car last year, but then, you know. The lightning and everything," he shrugged, "Now I don't see the point in it, considering I run everywhere I go now."

"Too bad you can't do that now," Joe sighed.

It would be too fishy, they had both decided. It would be hard to explain to others that he "walked" to school when the school district Barry would be going to was on the other side of the city, not just a few minutes away like Barry's high school had been. He couldn't flash his way to school in the morning, or he would be risking revealing more than one of his secret identities.

Barry didn't bring much of his stuff with him to Joe's house, seeing as this was only temporary, but even without all his possessions there, Barry felt at home right away. Iris was feeling particularly nostalgic, and she insisted they have a late movie night for Barry's first night home. As Barry sat on the couch with Iris curled up next to him as they watched the movie, he thought to himself that maybe this assignment wasn't going to be all that bad.

* * *

"Have a good day, _Grant_ ," Joe said with a grin as Barry was leaving for school.

Barry rolled his eyes at him, grabbing his red backpack and a slice of toast on his way out the door. It felt so weird for him to drive, considering he was used to going everywhere on foot and he hadn't driven very often even before the lightning. He had only been the Flash for a few months and he was already so used to his speed that to drive in a car felt painfully slow to him.

It took him some time to find the school, considering he had never been there before. He had gone to high school in a different district, and obviously, he had to go undercover at a different high school from the one he went to or all his old teachers would recognize him. He wished he had scoped out the new school before today so that he would at least know where he was going. He was going to be late on the first day. He ended up driving in a few circles because he didn't really know where he was going. All he knew was the address: 52 Jump Street.

It took him forever to find a parking spot once he found the school, another thing he hadn't missed about driving. The parking lot was full of cars but vacant of people. He was so late. This day was not off to a great start.

When Barry checked in at the front office, the secretary gave him an irritated look.

"You're late, Mr…?"

"West," Barry said breathlessly, "Grant West. I'm so sorry. I got lost on my way here. I'm a new student."

"Very well then," the secretary said, writing something on a piece of paper.

"Here's a hall pass," she said, handing him the paper, "You can give that to your first period teacher. Do you need your schedule or your locker number?"

"No," he replied, "Thanks, but I have all of that already. I should be fine. Thanks for the hall pass."

She gave him a small smile, and Barry left the office.

For a smaller school, the building was huge. He didn't know how he was going to navigate it during his time here. The building was built like a maze. Parts of the school had been added on, built off of the older foundation. It made for a really screwy layout that made absolutely no sense in Barry's opinion. He should have asked for directions when he was in the office.

By the time he found the classroom, he was already twenty minutes late. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't even a new record for him. He had always been notoriously late back when he was in high school. His old habits must not have changed much.

"You're late, young man," Mr. Agnew said when he walked quietly into the classroom.

"Sorry," Barry said quickly, aware of the entire classroom's eyes on him, "I'm a transfer student. Today's my first day."

He handed the teacher his hall pass and then made to sit down in one of the chairs behind the lab benches, hoping to get everyone's eyes off him. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself on the first day.

"Hang on there, Mr...West," the teacher said, looking down at his seating chart, "We have assigned seating in my classroom."

Barry stopped in his tracks, holding back a groan. Was this guy for real? Assigned seats?

He was sat down at a lab bench next to a kid who was supposed to be his lab partner for the rest of the semester. The kid smiled nervously at Barry as he sat down. He was clearly very shy because he didn't even look Barry in the eye after that.

"Alright," Mr. Agnew said, continuing as if he hadn't been interrupted, "Now, I know stoichiometry seems a little daunting right now, but it's not that hard once you get the basics down. We already covered balancing chemical equations before break. Now we'll just be taking that one step further."

Barry smiled to himself. This class was supposed to be advanced chemistry, but the material they were covering was somewhat rudimentary to him, being information that he had committed to heart his first semester in college. This was going to be easy. Barry listened to the lecture leisurely, trying not to let his boredom completely prevent him from paying attention to the lesson.

"Grant," the teacher said suddenly after he had been talking for nearly twenty minutes.

Barry didn't respond right away. It took him a second or two before he snapped up and looked at the teacher. He was going to have to get used to responding to his new name.

"Yes, sir?" Barry asked.

A couple kids snickered at his formality. They thought he was being sarcastic. Barry had gotten so used to calling his boss 'sir' that he hadn't realized most high school students didn't address their teachers with such formality. Judging by the irritated look on Mr. Agnew's face, he must have thought he was mocking him.

"Mr. West, tell me. Do you have a photographic memory?" he asked him.

Barry was taken back by the question.

"No," he said, confused.

"Then, may I ask, why have you not taken a single note since you entered my classroom?"

Barry looked around. Most of the other students had their notebooks out and were taking notes on the lecture. Barry blushed as he looked back to the teacher.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "At my other school, we covered this information already. It's a bit of a repeat for me."

"Oh really?" Mr. Agnew said, though his tone suggested that he didn't quite accept this excuse, "Then you won't mind balancing this equation here for me, would you?"

He gestured to the equation on the white board. Barry looked at it, then back at the teacher again. He nodded, and he tried to stop a smile from forming on his face as he stood up and walked over to the board. This man was trying to embarrass him. This forty-some-year-old man was seriously trying to humiliate a high school kid just to prove a point. Power trip.

Barry wasn't used to having a fellow adult talk to him in such a condescending way –besides Singh maybe—but to this man, he wasn't an adult. This man thought he was some seventeen-year-old punk, so Barry would just have to put up with it.

Barry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes when he looked at the problem on the board. Of course, the asshole would try to give him a college level stoic equation for Copper (II) Nitrate solution—way too advanced for high school students. Little did he know, Barry had a double major in chemistry and physics. It might as well have been 2+2 for him.

Barry stared at the chemical equation for only maybe half a minute before he solved it, quickly inserting the numbers in front of each chemical in the equation to balance it. He handed the marker back to the instructor, who stared at him in surprise.

"You didn't show your work," Mr. Agnew said flatly, "You have to explain the process."

Barry sighed. For real? This guy seemed set out to put him on the spot. It's not like you ever had to show your work in real life. The idea of Singh asking him to explain every forensic test he ran was laughable. What point was this guy trying to make? Barry took the marker back from him and turned back to the board again. He sighed before starting to explain his process aloud.

"First I assigned variables to each substance to represent the coefficients," he said, writing it on the board next to each chemical.

"Keeping the Law of Conservation of Matter in mind, I used those variables of the coefficients and subscripts to write an equation for each element so that the number of reactant atoms is equal to the number of product atoms."

The class, along with the teacher goggled at him as he wrote on the board:

 _Cu a=_ c  
 _H b=2e  
N b=2c+d  
O 3b=6c+d+e_

"From there," continued Barry, "I took the longest equation and by substitution I got the equation to be a proportion containing two different variables."

And on Barry went, explaining his advanced method for solving the chemistry equation while the class tried to follow what he was talking about. When Barry finally finished, ending with the solution of the chemical equation, he set the marker down and turned back around to face the instructor.

The entire class was staring at him.

"And you did all of this in your head?" Mr. Agnew asked skeptically.

"What are you suggesting?" Barry asked, somewhat irritably, "That I somehow cheated?"

"No," Mr. Agnew said, becoming flustered for the first time now, "No, of course not. I…You can take a seat now, Mr. West."

Barry nodded stiffly and walked back to his desk. Mr. Agnew stared at the board for a minute or two before he was able to give himself a mental shake and get back to his train of thought, returning to the lecture. Barry made a point of not taking out his notebook after that. He had no respect for this man, this man who abused the little bit of authority he had been given to bully around high school students just to make himself feel more powerful. It was pathetic.

He had seen some cops on the force do it, too. You could always tell a lot about a person just by how they used their power and authority. It was always the people who hadn't really had a lot of popularity or power in their adolescence that usually let everything go to their heads as soon as they found themselves in a career field that permitted them even a single ounce of authority. It said a lot about their character, and Barry was somewhat smug that he hadn't allowed this teacher to get the best of him just to prove a point.

Barry still regretted his actions, though. He should have just played dumb, should have apologized and admitted defeat, saying he didn't know how to solve the problem. His temper had gotten the best of him. This was the opposite of laying low. He was drawing attention to himself. People in the classroom were still glancing at him every now and then after that. Great. It wasn't even second period, and Barry was already going to be branded a nerd. This was going to be like his first time in high school all over again.

When the bell rang, Barry stood quickly from his seat, wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Once he was halfway down the hallway after leaving the classroom, he suddenly heard a voice shout out behind him.

"Hey!" some guy called out, catching up to him.

Barry hadn't known he was calling out to him at first. He thought it strange, considering how he doesn't know anyone yet.

"Hey," Barry answered back curiously, once the guy had caught up to him.

The kid was tall, just like him, with broad shoulders and curly light brown hair and preppy Hollister clothes. Barry had made an effort to dress _down_ for school, wearing just jeans and a plain t-shirt, thinking the sweaters and button downs he usually wore were maybe a little too dressy, but this kid clearly took a lot of pride in how he dressed.

"It's Grant, right?" the guy asked.

"Yeah," Barry answered, and he was surprised when the kid actually shook his hand.

"I'm Justin," he said, smiling at him, "I just needed to tell you that that was seriously sick what you did back there."

Barry just stared at him in surprise.

"Mr. Agnew seriously needs an ego check," Justin continued, "It was awesome to see somebody finally show him up for once."

"Yeah, well it was kind of dumb of me," Barry said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, "It's only my first day here, and I've already made a teacher hate me."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Justin said, waving his hand dismissively, "Mr. Agnew hates all his students. Why he ever became a teacher, I'll never know."

Barry laughed lightly at that.

"So, do you need any help with anything?" Justin asked him, "I can show you around if you want."

"That would be awesome," Barry said, pleasantly surprised by the kid's friendliness.

He hadn't expected anyone to be so welcoming and helpful right off the bat like this. Maybe kids were just nicer now than they were when he was in school. Or maybe it was just because it was a smaller school than the one he had gone to. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn't going through it this time as the weird kid with a "murderer" for a father. That always helps.

"Why are you carrying your backpack around with you?" Justin asked him, laughing as he saw the bag strung over Barry's shoulder.

"I was running late," Barry explained, "I didn't really have time to find my locker to drop off my stuff."

"What's your locker number?" he asked, "I'll help you find it."

Barry looked at the paper he had been given by Singh with all his class information and locker number on it.

"227" he answered.

"Dude! That's right by mine," Justin said happily, "Looks like we're neighbors."

It was true. Barry's locker was only four lockers away from Justin's. After Barry had dropped off his stuff, Justin very helpfully told him how to find his next class, and the two of them parted ways. As Barry walked to his next class, he was feeling pretty good. He had been worried that he would have a hard time making friends here, which would have been a problem considering that making friends was kind of the bulk of his assignment.

At least he wasn't late for his next class, and there wasn't any silly assigned seating either. Barry strategically chose a desk near the middle of the room. He wanted to be near the most people possible, so he could not only make friends, but also maybe even increase his chances of overhearing something about vertigo. Kids could be really stupid sometimes, and he wouldn't put it past them to be dumb enough to talk about their drug-related activities at school. He wanted to put himself in the best possible position to maybe overhear some of it.

When Barry pulled out his textbook, he groaned quietly to himself when he looked at the cover. This wasn't just health class. It was Sex Ed. Barry was going to kill Joe. He knew he was responsible for this. Singh had told him that Joe had helped put together Barry's schedule. He could just picture it now, Joe and Singh laughing as they picked his classes for him. This was going to be torture. He was twenty-five years old! He really didn't need to learn all this information again.

Barry took out his notebook this time, even though he really didn't need—or want—to take notes on this. He politely jotted a few things down as the teacher went over basic human anatomy with them. He was amused by how mortified all the students seemed to be. He remembered when he had been young, and the idea of talking about this stuff seemed so embarrassing. It was still awkward for him, sure, but he wasn't as completely mortified as he would have been when he was a teenager. He felt the worst for the instructor, who was really just a gym teacher who got roped into doing this. Barry really would not want his job.

"And remember, everyone," Mr. Ronan said near the end of class, "The best form of birth control is _abstinence_."

When the bell rang, it was somewhat amusing how quickly everyone rose from their seats, wanting to get the hell out of there.

"Okay, everyone," Mr. Ronan said as they were all filtering out of the room, "Keep in mind there's an anonymous question box in the back of the room. There are no stupid questions when it comes to sex ed, so don't be shy."

Barry really was going to kill Joe. He knew Joe had only put him in this class for a laugh, which was _really_ not cool of him. This assignment was bad enough as it was without him having to learn about the birds and the bees every day.

After leaving the classroom, Barry nervously looked down at his class schedule, apprehensive to find out what class he was supposed to go to next. It couldn't be any worse than sex ed, right?

Wrong. His next class was glee. How was that even an actual class? He thought it was just an extracurricular. At his old high school, glee club was just an afterschool group, and it hardly had enough students in it to warrant a club, let alone a whole class. Maybe glee was more popular now than it was when he was in school. He really didn't know.

All he knew was that he was really not looking forward to his next class.


	3. I Want You Back

**Any songs that have a Glee YouTube video with them, I've bolded in case anyone wants to look them up. Although, if you read my stories through Archive of Our Own, I have photos and videos embedded in the stories themselves. Reading my stories is far more interesting on AO3 because of all the bonus media I add to them.**

* * *

 **I Want You Back**

* * *

The glee classroom wasn't very hard to find. All Barry had to do was find the room where all of the singing was coming from. The group of students were all singing happily, just goofing around before the bell rang for the start of class. Barry didn't really know what the hell to do when he entered the room.

There weren't even any desks. It was just a large, spacious room with lots of windows, a piano, and a bunch of chairs that no one seemed to be making use of. The students were all standing close together in a small group as they were singing **Uptown Girl** by Billy Joel. Barry had to admit. They sounded pretty damn good, almost like professionals, despite the fact that they were just a bunch of high school kids.

Barry stood awkwardly near the door, but thankfully, before he had to figure out what to do, the bell rang and the glee teacher entered the room.

"Alright, settle down everybody," he said, gesturing for them all to take a seat.

Everyone moved towards the chairs in the room to sit down, Barry amongst them. A few people cast him curious looks, no doubt wondering who he was and what he was doing in here. Barry was relieved when Justin, the friendly kid from his chemistry class earlier, sat down next to him, grinning at him.

"We have a couple new people joining Glee Club this semester," the instructor, Mr. Lindholm, told them once they were seated.

He looked down at his class roster.

"Charlie Schuh," he called, looking up.

A student sitting a few chairs away from Barry gave a small wave of his hand to identify himself.

"Adam Emmerich."

The guy next to Barry made a small gesture of acknowledgement.

"Grant West," Mr. Lindholm called out.

Barry raised his hand briefly, and the teacher looked more closely at him.

"You're new to this school, right?" he asked.

Barry nodded.

Mr. Lindholm nodded and then listed off two other new club members who had just joined. Barry seemed to be the only one of them that was new to the school, though. Everyone else was just new to the club.

"Alright, everyone," Mr. Lindholm said to them all, "Just a reminder—and for those of you who don't know—your senior projects will be due the week before finals this semester. Those of you who just joined, here are the details for the assignment."

The instructor handed each of the five new students a small pamphlet. Barry glanced down at it as Mr. Lindholm continued talking. The title on the pamphlet read, "Senior Video Project."

Barry already wasn't liking the sound of it as he skimmed over the project details, but he tried to put it from his mind for the time being as he went back to listening to the glee teacher.

"—with the loss of our senior soloist," he was saying, "With the part now unfortunately left open, I've decided to use this first day back from the winter break to hold auditions for the solo. All male singers will have to come up and sing today, so we can decide who will be taking his place."

"Why are we holding auditions?!" a guy sitting on the other side of the room from Barry suddenly asked loudly, "We already know who should get the solo."

"Noah," Mr. Lindholm said, looking at the student, "You had the solo for the first semester competition. I think it would probably be good to give somebody else a shot at it, and we're holding auditions today because we have three new club members who deserve a chance to try out for the part."

Barry badly wanted to say that he had no desire to try out for a solo, but he couldn't exactly speak for the other two guys who were new to the club, so he held his tongue.

Justin, sitting next to him, nudged him, and Barry looked over.

"That's Noah," he whispered to Barry, rolling his eyes, "He's a total diva. Thinks he deserves the solo for every performance we do."

"Alright," Mr. Lindholm said, getting back to business as Noah sulked in his chair, "For auditions we'll be singing ' **I Want You Back** ' by Michael Jackson. We'll be going down the list for auditions. We'll start with you, Mr. Ashford."

Without hesitation, a guy with sandy blonde hair stepped forward in front of the group. After a minute the pianist started playing the background for the part, and the kid started to sing. Barry's hands started to sweat as he listened. He was supposed to do this?! He was supposed to just get up in front of a bunch of kids and sing in front of everyone?!

Barry never sang in front of people. He used to sing all the time when he was a kid, but after his mother had died, he had stopped singing. Really, he enjoyed singing a lot, but he didn't do it often, and it was something he only did when he was alone. He was pretty sure that even Joe and Iris had never heard him sing before, and now he was expected to do it in front of a bunch of strangers.

When everyone suddenly started politely clapping, Barry realized that the blonde kid had already finished and he had barely heard any of it. He had been too focused on worrying about when his turn would come up that he hadn't paid any attention. He made an effort to listen to the next kid, though, which happened to be that Noah guy. Barry had to admit. The guy was a pretty damn good singer. Really, all of them were.

As they went down the list of guys in the class and Barry heard each of them sing, he started to get nervous. What if he wasn't good enough for them? What if they kicked him out of the group because he was so awful that they didn't even want him there as a background singer? He supposed it wouldn't be the worst thing ever if that happened, though. At least then he'd be able to wash his hands of this whole singing business. Barry had never even been in choir before, let alone glee club. This was so far out of his comfort zone. He had never really done something like this before, not even karaoke.

Barry was just grateful that his last name wasn't Allen on the class roster. Then he would have had to go first. Being last wasn't going to be that great either, though. Why did his cover name have to be West?

Barry gave an encouraging smile to Justin when it was his turn to audition. Like the rest of the guys in the group, he was really good. Barry felt his stomach twisting in knots when he realized he would be up soon. He looked at the clock on the wall. Maybe they would run out of time before that happened. Maybe then he could go to the office and request to drop the class before tomorrow so he wouldn't have to do this. His mind was running wild as he thought over all his options, which was why when his cover name was suddenly called, Barry was somewhat taken aback. How was it his turn already?!

"Here you are, Grant," Mr. Lindholm said, handing him the sheet music for the song in case he didn't know the lyrics.

Barry knew the song of course. Really, who doesn't know a Michael Jackson classic like that? He found himself looking down at the sheet anyways, though. Anything was better than looking up at the room full of people staring at him.

Barry couldn't help it, though. As the piano started to play, Barry looked up and saw everyone staring at him, all the guys and the girls in the club, watching him. He started to sweat and found himself hoping that they couldn't see his hands shaking as he waited for the piano to reach the part where he was supposed to start singing. Barry saw Justin give him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up, and that made him feel a little better. It wasn't until then that Barry noticed that most of the students were smiling at him. They weren't glaring him down with hostile expressions like his imagination had been telling him, but were all looking at him with friendly, encouraging smiles on their faces.

All of a sudden, Barry's nerves completely left him. His fears seemed to fly out the window. Really, there was nothing to be afraid of. These kids were all supporting and friendly, and they weren't going to judge or ridicule him. Even if they did, what would it matter? They were a bunch of high school kids, and it didn't really matter much to Barry what they thought of him. He was twenty-five. He didn't need the social approval of his sixteen-year-old peers. Barry felt a small smile forming on his face as he opened his mouth to sing.

 _When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around.  
Those pretty faces always make you stand out in the crowd.  
But someone picked you from the bunch, one glance was all it took  
And now it's much too late for me to take a second look._

Barry found himself full-on smiling as he sang, the words flowing from his mouth easily, his voice steady and not shaky at all as he let everything go and sang without worrying about what everyone else was thinking. His younger high school self wouldn't have been able to do it. Perhaps it was simply because he was older now, or maybe being the Flash for the last couple months had brought this part of him out, but Barry found himself radiating confidence as he sang.

 _Oh baby, give me one more chance  
Won't you please let me back in your heart  
Oh darlin', I was blind to let you go  
But now since I see you in his arms_

How could he have been dreading this? This was fun. This was wonderful! Barry knew he had always enjoyed singing, but he didn't know it could be this freeing and exhilarating to sing around other people. As he finally neared the end of the song, though, Barry noticed that the other students weren't smiling at him anymore. They were sitting there, staring at him with wide eyes. Some of them even had their mouths hanging open. Barry suddenly felt his nerves return, but thankfully it didn't affect him much as he finished the last few lines of the song.

There was this moment when his finished, this long horrible moment where no one said anything. No one clapped. No one smiled. They all just sat there staring at him. Barry felt his face go completely red as he stood there awkwardly, suddenly wishing he could just flash out of the room at superspeed.

And then they all started to clap.

It wasn't the same polite clapping they had done for everyone else. It was real clapping. A lot of them even stood up from their chairs, grinning at him, and Barry was pretty sure he even heard a few of the girls whoop at him.

"Damn, that was great!" one guy yelled.

"Lawrence," Mr. Lindholm said warningly, "Language."

"Sorry," Lawrence said, "But with this guy in the club now, we'll for sure make it to nationals!"

Barry blushed as the rest of the class smiled at him.

"Where'd you learn to sing like that?!" Justin asked, grinning at him, "That was amazing!"

"Thanks," Barry muttered, his blush deepening with all of them still staring at him.

At least they were smiling, though.

"Now, the real question is if you can dance the part," one girl said, looking him over, "How are you on your feet?"

"Um…" Barry said uncomfortably.

The truth was that Barry had always had two left feet. He sucked at dancing. He only danced when absolutely necessary, and the last time he could remember dancing was at the party the Queens threw that he went to with Felicity—if that even counted as dancing. All he had really done was hold hands with her and sway.

That was before the lightning, though. What with running all the time, maybe Barry would be a lot better on his feet now. He had definitely noticed he was more coordinated now than he was before the lightning strike. He didn't trip over his own feet like he used to, and he didn't constantly bump into things like the klutz he had always been. Maybe dancing would come easier to him now.

Barry was spared the prospect of answering her, though, when the bell suddenly rang.

"Alright, everyone," Mr. Lindholm said to all of them, "I'll see you all tomorrow, and I'll let you know whom I've chosen for our solo parts."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Barry thought he saw the teacher smile warmly at him as he was leaving. He wasn't sure if he had just imagined it or not, but he really hoped he had imagined the glare that the Noah kid had shot his way as he left the classroom.

Justin happened to also have the same class as Barry for his next period, so the two ended up walking together to get to the classroom.

"You were really good in there, Grant," Justin told him, "I was seriously not expecting that! You looked so nervous when you first went up."

"I was," Barry admitted.

"You did amazing, though," Justin gushed, "Mr. Lindholm is going to give you the part for sure."

"Really?" Barry said in surprise, "I thought everyone was just trying to be nice to the new guy. Everyone at this school has been surprisingly friendly and welcoming to me."

"Trust me," Justin said, "They weren't just being nice. You have an amazing voice. You must have had a lot of solos at your old school."

"I wasn't ever in glee at my old school," Barry said, blushing at the compliment.

He really wished he would stop blushing today.

"Seriously?" Justin said, "I can't believe that. You've been wasting that voice of yours, Grant. I think we'll seriously make it to nationals with you in the club now."

Barry laughed lightly, but then he suddenly became serious.

"What happened to the last senior soloist?" he asked, "The one who originally had the part? Mr. Lindholm sounded kind of morbid when he was talking about it."

"I'm sure you heard about it already," Justin said, lowering his voice, "It was in all the papers. Todd Swenson. He was the kid who overdosed over break."

"Oh," Barry said, knowing all too well who Todd Swenson was.

He had done the forensic work on the body. They had found the kid in his bedroom, overdosed on some unknown substance. It had been one of the sadder scenes Barry had had to go to. It was weird talking about it with another high school kid now. How would this kid react if he knew that Barry not only knew about the case but had done post mortem inspection on his classmate's body? It made Barry feel somewhat creepy to think about it.

"Yeah, I heard about that," Barry said, his heart racing.

This was the first mention he had heard about the vertigo case from a fellow student, and he was trying to sound casual as he continued the conversation.

"Did you know him well?"

"Not really," Justin said with a shrug, "It's a small school and all, but I only really knew him through glee. He and I weren't really close or anything. It's a shame what happened to him, though."

"Yeah," Barry said quietly, "Do you know what he overdosed on?"

Barry knew the answer already, of course, but he wanted to see how much this Justin kid really knew about all of this.

"It's not hard to figure out," Justin said quietly, "A lot of kids have been taking vertigo around here lately."

Barry's heart leapt at where this conversation was heading. He was just about to ask more when, to his immense frustration, they were suddenly interrupted.

" _Buenos dias_ ," their teacher said to them when they entered the classroom.

Barry tried to hide his frustration as he took a seat at a desk in the classroom. Justin sat in the desk next to him.

" _Buenos dias_ ," Justin echoed back to her.

Barry give her a small, polite smile.

 _Buenos dias_ meant good morning, right? Or was it good day? But it had an S on the end, so it was plural, right? Good days? That didn't make sense.

Shit. Barry didn't know a lick of Spanish. Why did Joe and Singh enroll him in Spanish III anyways?! They could have enrolled him into an intro level Spanish course, but no. They had to go and put him into a third year level class. Barry sighed in frustration as he pulled out his textbook. He was seriously going to have to have a word with Joe about his schedule. And he was seriously going to have to ask Cisco for help with his Spanish homework.

But he couldn't. Cisco didn't know about his new work assignment. Nobody did, except him, Joe, and Singh. Barry wondered if maybe he should make an exception for everyone at STAR Labs. Right now, they all just thought he was going to work during the day like always, but they were bound to catch on eventually. For now, though, he didn't really see the point. And it's not like he was necessarily lying. He was still going to work, technically. Just not to the precinct. Instead he was going to _high school_. He knew Cisco would have a laugh riot about this if he found out, and that was reason enough for Barry not to tell any of them.

Barry tried his best to follow along in Spanish class—he really did—but he was completely lost. They were talking about when to use the word ' _por_ ' versus the word ' _para_." Barry didn't even know what either of those two words _meant_ , but he didn't want to ask for fear of looking stupid. Really, he couldn't ask even if he wanted to. The rule in the class was that you had to speak Spanish at all times while in the classroom unless absolutely necessary, and Barry wouldn't even begin to know how to say "What the hell does _para_ mean?" in Spanish.

By the time they left the classroom, Barry had a headache and a notebook full of notes that didn't make any sense to him. He was probably going to have to blow his cover to Cisco just so he could get through this class. Really though, it didn't exactly matter what his grades were. He could get all F's and it wouldn't matter, as long as he was going to the school and trying to find out more about vertigo and where it came from. He doubted whether Captain Singh would give a shit about his grade in Spanish class.

But he couldn't get F's. Not only because Barry was a perfectionist who had never gotten an F in his life, but also because he was supposed to be on the track team, and they no doubt had some kind of academic code in place that would ensure he would be kicked off the team for failing a class. So, overall, he did have some incentive to actually try to do well in all of his courses.

Barry sat with Justin and his friends during lunch. As Barry was being introduced to all of them, he could tell they were a very friendly group of kids. One thing he couldn't tell, though, was what _kind_ of group they were. Were they cool kids? Geeks? Jocks? Pokémon kids? Goths? Burnouts? Nerds? Barry couldn't really tell.

As he looked around the lunchroom, he couldn't really peg any of the groups or clicks of students as any one category. Maybe things were just different now. The groups were a lot more complicated now than when he was in high school. Also, it wasn't just all guys or all girls either. The groups were mixed, guys and girls sitting equally at each table. When Barry was in school, most guys sat with their guy friends and most girls sat with their girl friends. He and Iris had been one of the few exceptions to that rule.

"So, Grant," one guy at his table, Micheal, said to him suddenly, "I heard you showed Mr. Agnew up this morning and made him look like a total dumbass."

Barry blushed.

"Who told you that?" he asked.

"I heard it from like three different people," Micheal laughed.

"I wouldn't say I showed him up," Barry said quietly, "All I did was what he told me to do. I solved the problem."

"Well, whatever you did, it was awesome," Micheal said, laughing and shaking his head, "Mr. Agnew is such an ass."

Barry couldn't argue with him there. Mr. Agnew _was_ a bit of an ass. Barry didn't like the idea, though, that everyone in the school was talking about him. It seemed to be in a positive way, at least, but Barry didn't necessarily like the fact that the other students were all in awe of him because they thought he had been disrespectful to a teacher, especially when he hadn't really meant to be. Mr. Agnew had just rubbed him the wrong way, and he couldn't help it.

"Grant, I might just need you to help me get through chem this semester," Justin said with a laugh, "I don't understand any of it, and you seem to really know what you're doing."

"Only if you help me get through Spanish," Barry said with a smile, "I didn't understand a word of what was said in class today. _Literally_! Not one word."

Justin laughed.

"Deal," he said, taking a bite of his food.

Barry was taking a bite of his own food when he noticed the girl across from him staring at him.

"Sorry," Barry said to her, "What was your name again?"

"Natalie," she said, "It's okay. You're new, and you just met all of us at once. I don't expect you to remember everyone's names off the bat."

Barry smiled sheepishly at her.

"You were really good in Glee Club today," she said to him, "I was seriously impressed."

"Thanks," Barry said with a blush.

He had thought she had looked familiar. She had been in the glee classroom earlier, sitting with the other girls in the club while the boys auditioned for the solo part.

"I hope you get the part," she said kindly, "You or Justin, of course. I think I'll quit the club if Noah gets another solo."

Justin laughed.

"I think Noah will quit the club if he _doesn't_ get another solo."

Justin looked at Barry then.

"Natalie is one of the female soloists," he told Barry, "This semester we're having a Battle of the Sexes competition for our Glee sectionals. Guys and girls are going to be split up into two separate teams, and the top two teams are going to battle it out."

"That sounds cool," Barry said, giving them a small smile.

He, himself, didn't care much about glee, but he could tell it meant a great deal to them.

When no one said anything else for a while and they had all gone back to eating their lunch, Barry decided to suddenly clear his throat before speaking.

"So, um," he said, 'What were you saying before? About the whole vertigo thing?"

Justin looked up at him.

"Oh, yeah," he said, "I was just saying that a bunch of kids here were trying it lately."

"Is it something _you've_ tried?" Barry asked gently, trying to sound casual and not too nosy.

"We may have tried it once or twice," Michael said to him with a wink.

Barry was shocked. He hadn't expected good kids like this to be into that sort of thing.

"Who hasn't?" Justin laughed.

"Why?" Michael asked Barry suddenly, "You looking for a hookup, Grant?"

Barry swallowed.

"And if I am?" he said, "Who would I talk to?"

Justin laughed.

"We used to have a guy who hooked us up, but now it's gotten to be a bit harder to get," he said.

"No kidding," Michael said bitterly, "The cops have been seriously cracking down on it. Dealers have been a lot more careful now about who they work with."

"Who are the dealers?" Barry asked, perhaps a little too intensely.

He leaned back in his chair then and tried to look casual and relaxed. Thankfully, no one else seemed to have noticed his overly interested tone.

"I have a cousin who gets it for me," another girl at their table—Barry thought she said her name was Stephanie—told him, "I don't know where he gets it from, though."

"We should get more of that shit," one of Justin's friends, Forrest, said, "It's been way too long. I need to party soon. It's only the first day back from break, and I'm already stressed out."

"You're always stressed out, Forrest," Natalie joked.

"Well, it's not easy maintaining a four-point-o," he said.

"Oh, here we go," Micheal said, rolling his eyes, "Talking about your four-point-o _again_. We get it, Forrest. You're smart."

The two continued to banter then, but Barry tuned them out. He was too preoccupied going over all the information he had just learned in his head.

This was perfect. He had fallen right into a group of high schoolers who not only have used vertigo before, but also might be able to find out where to get it from. He just wished they hadn't changed the topic of conversation. He wanted to ask them more about the drug, but he knew it would seem fishy if he tried to change the subject back to vertigo again, so he let it go for now. He would have to take his time with it or else it would be too suspicious.

Barry couldn't help but be surprised that these kids, of all people, were vertigo users. They didn't seem the type. They were all clean cut kids. They dressed well, got good grades, and were involved in academic groups and clubs. Not the typical drug users. It really just went to show that vertigo could reach anyone, and anyone could get hooked on it. It made Barry wonder just how many of the kids in this school had tried it before.

After his horrible morning schedule, Barry was seriously dreading to find out what his afternoon schedule had in store for him. So far, it seemed like Joe and Singh were trying to play some cruel joke on him with the classes they had chosen for him. Seriously, sex ed, glee, and advanced level Spanish? What were they thinking?

But when Barry looked over his afternoon schedule, sick of being surprised by every terrible class he had been enrolled in, he found it to be surprisingly normal. He had English right after lunch, and he didn't see how that could be bad at all. Then again, he hadn't expected his chemistry teacher to be a total ass hat either. With his luck, his English teacher was bound to be just as bad. He was wrong, though.

She was worse.

Ms. Cooper wasn't a mean woman. She was very kind actually, and she was liked by most students. Barry, however, froze the second he walked into the classroom and saw her. Covering his face, he quickly spun around and walked out the room, hoping nobody had noticed him. Not even knowing where he was going, Barry quickly headed down the hallway. He had only taken a few strides down the hallway, though, before he heard his name being called. Not his cover name, his _real_ name.

"Barry?" a woman's voice call out behind him.

Barry cringed and stopped walking. Shit. She had seen him. Slowly, Barry painfully turned around to face her.

"Hi, Becky."


	4. Gym Class Hero

**Gym Class Hero**

* * *

"Barry, what are you doing here?" Becky asked him in confusion.

Barry didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed her arm and pulled her a little ways down the hallway before opening a door.

"Barry, what are you—?"

But she was cut off when Barry pulled her into a small janitor's closet, turning on the light and shutting the door.

"What's going on?" she asked him, baffled by his actions, "I haven't seen you in years, and you just show up here where I work and pull me into a closet?! I have a class to get to that starts in two minutes."

"So do I," Barry said, running a hand over his face.

Becky looked at him in confusion.

"I work for the CCPD," Barry started to explain, knowing the only thing he could do now was come clean to her.

He had to let her in on it, or she was going to end up blowing his cover.

"I'm undercover," he told her.

"What?" she asked, still not getting it, "What exactly does that mean? Barry, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here as a student," he told her, "And from now on, my name isn't Barry. It's Grant."

Her eyes grew wide as she started to understand.

" _You're_ my new student?" she asked in disbelief.

Barry nodded.

"And I would really appreciate it if you just play along," he said quickly, "If you blow my cover, I'm done."

"What are you undercover for?" she asked in confusion.

"I'll explain all of that later," Barry said, looking at his watch—the bell would be ringing in less than a minute, "Right now, I think we should probably get to class."

She sighed and looked at him in disbelief.

"I'm supposed to just play along with my ex-boyfriend from high school being one of my students?" she asked, laughing lightly at the absurdity of the whole situation.

Barry laughed, too.

"Hey, I'm the one who's going to have to call you 'Ms. Cooper,'" he said.

She laughed at that, and Barry found that it was a sound he had missed. He hadn't seen Becky in years, and although the circumstances were strange, he found himself happy to see her again. It was then that he realized just how small this closet really was. They were almost touching, nearly pressed together in the small space.

Becky must have realized it, too, because she was blushing suddenly.

"We, um," she said, looking at Barry with a strange look on her face, "We should probably get going."

"Yeah," Barry said, reaching over and fumbling with the door handle for a second before opening the door.

He made sure no one was in the hallway before stepping out of the closet. A student leaving a closet with his hot English teacher would probably look a little conspicuous. Wait, hot?

Barry quickly made his way to the classroom, immediately taking the seat that Michael, one of Justin's friends who he had met at lunch, had saved for him. When Becky—or should he say, Ms. Cooper—entered the classroom, Barry could see that her face was still bright red.

English class was awkward, to say the least. Becky managed to play along and call him Grant for the duration of the period. Really, she did her best to treat Barry like any other student. She seemed to be trying not to look at him as she taught the class, introducing the new novel they were going to be reading.

Flowers for Algernon.

Barry had read it before. He was pretty sure it was a part of the course curriculum back when he and Becky were still in school. It was one of his favorites. It served as a reminder to him that people didn't care about how smart you are, but rather the kind of person you are. It's better to have a good heart than a sharp brain. Barry had always strived to have both, but he made sure that heart always came first. Really, it was a terrific book.

Every time Becky and Barry made eye contact, both of them would blush and look away. Barry tried to politely take notes and participate in their novel introduction activity, but he couldn't help but be distracted. Becky looked very much like he remembered her. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful smile. Barry found himself wondering why they had ever broken up.

Oh, that's right. Iris.

Barry gave himself a mental shake. Now wasn't the time for him to be reliving _that_ drama. That had all been a real nightmare, one that he wasn't interested in revisiting, even in his thoughts.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Michael asked him in a whisper.

Barry looked over at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You look like you're ready to jump out of your seat and flash out of the room any second."

Barry laughed at his coincidental choice of words and then tried to relax, leaning back in his chair at his desk. He hadn't realized how tense he had been.

"I'm good," he said, "Just nervous about track practice tonight. I don't know anyone on the team."

"Yes, you do," Michael said, grinning, "I'm on the team."

"You are?" Barry said, smiling now, "Well, at least I know one person."

Barry's attention was then pulled from the conversation when Beck—Ms. Cooper suddenly spoke to him.

"Do you have something you want to share with the class there, Mr. West?" she asked him.

The entire class looked at him, and Barry blushed, worried he had upset Becky, but when he looked at her, she had a small smile on her lips.

She was messing with him.

"No, Ms. Cooper," he said, trying to fight back his own smile.

The rest of the class looked back and forth between the two of them curiously, and Barry quickly cleared his throat and looked down at his notes.

He glanced up again once Becky had resumed teaching the class, and he saw that she seemed to still have a small smile on her face as she wrote on the board. Barry was going to have a hard time focusing in this class this semester.

* * *

Barry's anatomy and physiology class was probably going to be his favorite period of the day. The teacher was very nice, unlike his chem teacher, and he wasn't his ex-girlfriend like his English teacher. Varry wasn't completely lost like he was in his Spanish class, and he wasn't expected to sing, like in he was in Glee. Also, the anatomy they were covering wasn't reproductive in nature like his sex ed class, so there wasn't anything really embarrassing or awkward about it. It was just a nice, normal class, which was refreshing for him. Why couldn't his entire day be like that?

Barry had gym class on his schedule after that. Gym had always been hell for Barry back in high school. Really, it hadn't even been because he was that bad at sports. Really, he wasn't completely hopeless in the athletics department. He had been in track and cross country, after all, so he was at least a good runner, and he had been fit. Not exactly muscular, but fit.

No, gym had always been terrible for him because Tony Woodward and his friends would use the time to torture Barry. They had constantly messed with him during gym class, and the locker room was always hell for Barry because of them.

Thankfully, Barry didn't have to worry about that now. Not only was bullying less tolerated in schools now, but the other kids in the school seemed to actually really _like_ Barry. To them, he wasn't the weird nerdy, science kid with a crazy murderer for a father locked up in Iron Heights. He was Grant, the quiet, yet very likable new guy who had crushed it during the glee auditions and had embarrassed the hell out of the biggest asshole teacher in the school. Within a day, everyone was curious about the new guy.

Barry noticed quite a few girls kept staring at him as he walked down the hallway, whispering and giggling to their friends when he returned their gaze. It made him somewhat uncomfortable. It seemed to happen everywhere he went, and it was really distracting when he was just trying to figure out where the locker room was.

At least when he reached the men's locker room there weren't any girls hovering near him anymore. He was glad when he recognized one guy, Forrest, from his lunch table. He hadn't gotten the chance to talk to him much at lunch, but he was a nice guy as far as Barry could tell. Barry recognized a few other guys from some of his other classes, but he didn't know their names. He was usually really good with names, but Barry found himself a bit overwhelmed with the large number of people he had met today.

Gym class was interesting, to say the least. Being the first day back from winter break, the gym teacher, Mr. Zenner, decided to make it a fun day by having them play dodgeball. While most of the class cheered, Barry couldn't help but think to himself that Mr. Zenner's definition of fun didn't exactly coincide with his own.

Barry had always hated dodgeball when he was in school, seeing as Tony and his friends would always target him specifically, and they always seemed to be aiming for his face when they tried to hit him with their dodgeballs. It was hell for Barry.

Barry was sorry to see that they hadn't done away with the awful tradition of picking teams, as if they were looking for ways to make somebody feel bad. Barry hadn't always been picked last for teams when he was in school, but he certainly was one of the fewer left standing after most of the teams had been picked. He just hoped that wouldn't be the case now.

To his surprise, Barry wasn't one of the last picked. In fact, he was part of the first few that were picked for teams. Forrest grinned when he and Barry ended up on the same team. A few other guys smiled at him, too. Barry hadn't even met most of them officially, yet they all seemed to know his name and who he was. Being a smaller school, word certainly did travel fast. He guessed they probably weren't very used to getting new students, so when they did, everyone was a bit curious to get to know the new guy.

Barry's popularity only seemed to grow by the time gym class was done. His teammates certainly were happy that they had picked Barry for their team. He was easily the best dodgeball player they had ever seen. It was kind of easy for him when the balls looked like they were practically coming at him in slow motion. Barry didn't want to be cocky or anything, but really, with his powers, he probably could have taken on the entire class by himself and still won. It was almost too easy for him to dodge the balls that were flying at him, and it was just as easy for him to catch a ball and get the person who had thrown it out. His team won every round.

His teammates were all grinning at him, knowing that they were probably only winning because of him. Barry's aim was decent, too, but the way he dodged and caught the balls that were thrown at him was incredibly impressive. It seemed like most people on the other team were all trying to target him the most, since he was the biggest threat, but Barry was untouchable, and he was having _fun_. Who knew dodgeball could actually be fun?

As they were exiting the gym, all of Barry's teammates were slapping him on the back.

"That was awesome, Grant!"

"Good game, dude."

Barry grinned at them. He felt a bit bad, though—like he had cheated. None of the other kids knew that they had just been playing dodgeball with the Flash. None of them really stood a chance against him. Barry had always had a competitive side to him, but he promised himself that from now on, he wouldn't go overboard. He would have to try harder to dial it back a bit, but that was hard for him. He had never really been able to enjoy gym class when he was in school, and he found that it was a good feeling. It felt good to be good at something.

After showering and changing back into his normal clothes, Barry had only one more class left to go to for the day. Psychology. Like his anatomy class, it thankfully was uneventful. All they really did during the class time was go over the basic areas of the brain. The class seemed simple enough. The only downside was the amount of homework they had been given.

Barry would have given anything to be able to go straight home after that last class, but unfortunately, he still had track practice to go to. If he thought it was unfair to pair kids unknowingly against the Flash in dodgeball, it was nothing compared to competing with him on the track field. Really, the idea of it was just laughable. Barry's tryout didn't last very long. After running just a few sprints with the team watching, the coach made his decision easily.

"Great job, Grant," the coach said once Barry had completed a short 100 meter dash, "You're form is excellent. We'll just have to work on your speed a bit."

Barry tried not to laugh. He wondered how his coach would react if he showed him just how fast he could really go. He had dialed it back just enough that he'd be good enough to get on the team, but he didn't go too fast because he didn't want to turn any heads. It was still the first day, after all, and he seemed to have already captured enough attention from his fellow students. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention to himself.

"Alright, everyone, we're running the bleachers today."

The whole team groaned as they made their way over to the bleachers. Barry remembered doing this drill back in high school when he had been on the team. It sucked. They literally spent a full hour just running up and down the bleachers, their legs becoming incredibly sore. All except for Barry's, of course. His leg muscles, joints, and ligaments had grown accustomed to withstand running at the speed of sound. Jogging up and down some stairs was nothing to him.

"Dude, you're not even sweating," his new friend, Michael, gasped as they jogged up the bleachers alongside each other, "You don't even seem out of breath."

Barry just smiled and shrugged.

Shit. He had forgotten about breathing. Looking around him, he could see the whole track team gasping for breath as they ran, and here he was breathing normally as if he were going for a light walk. He would have to try hard to at least _seem_ winded in the future.

After track practice was over, Barry was finally able to go home for the day. As he drove home at a painfully slow pace, Barry thought about how the day had gone. He wasn't the biggest fan of his classes, but the students had all been very welcoming. This school was a lot smaller than the school he had gone to, and the kids were a lot friendlier. Overall, he felt like he was off to a good start.

When Barry got home, Joe was already there, sitting on the couch in the living room, going over a few case files. He chuckled when Barry walked through the front door and set down his car keys.

"What?" Barry asked.

"Nothing," Joe said, shaking his head with a smile on his face, "It's just going to take some getting used to—you carrying that red backpack around with you again."

Barry tossed the backpack down on the floor and sat down on the other end of the couch.

"I have a bone to pick with you," he said seriously to Joe.

Joe raised his eyebrows, a small smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. Barry could tell that Joe already knew what he was going to say.

"Sex ed, Joe? Really?" Barry said incredulously, "Sex ed? Glee club? What are you and Singh playing at?"

Joe just laughed.

"I thought it'd be funny," he snickered.

Barry huffed angrily.

"It is _not_ funny," he said, "You guilt me into doing this assignment, and then you go and put me in classes like sex ed?"

"Who knows, Barry?" Joe said, grinning, "Maybe you'll learn a thing or two."

Barry groaned and ran a hand over his face in exasperation.

"And why on earth would you put me in advanced Spanish?" he asked, "You know I don't know Spanish."

"That one was Singh's idea, actually," Joe said seriously, "He and I both knew you were bound to take it too seriously, and you were going to end up getting straight A's in every class. We thought that would look strange, so we gave you a class you would be bad at."

Barry groaned.

"You could have just told me to dumb myself down," he said irritably, "You didn't have to put me in Spanish."

"Think of it as a challenge, Bar," Joe said unhelpfully, "You like challenges."

"Yeah, well this assignment is enough of a challenge as it is," Barry pointed out.

"How was your first day, anyways?" Joe asked seriously, "Did it go alright?"

Barry thought about it for a moment and couldn't stop a smile from forming on his lips.

"It was okay," he said, "I made a few friends."

"You did?" Joe asked.

"Why the tone of surprise?" Barry asked defensively.

"No reason," Joe said quickly, "But let's be honest, Bar. You didn't have that many friends when you were in school. There was Iris and then those two friends of yours you used to hang around with. What were their names again?"

"Cam and Matt," Barry answered offhandedly, "And I'll have you know that I'm not completely hopeless when it comes to making friends."

"I didn't say you were," Joe said calmly, "Listen, Bar, I know your high school experience wasn't the greatest. I know how hard it was for you making friends after everything with your dad. Hopefully, you can look at this as your second chance. You don't have anything weighing you down now."

"I'm not ashamed of my dad, Joe," Barry said quietly, "I'm proud to be his son."

"I know, Bar," Joe assured him, "I know you love your dad. That's not what I meant. I just meant that you get a fresh start now. You can be whoever you want to be."

Barry laughed.

"You realize I'm twenty-five, right?" he reminded him, "I have a job and a life and friends. This is just a dumb work assignment."

Joe chuckled.

"Yes, I know," he nodded, "I'm just saying you should try to enjoy it."

Barry nodded and smiled at him.

"I'm going to go grab something to eat," he told him then, standing up from the couch, "I'm starving. Those high school cafeteria meals are _tiny_ for me."

Joe laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

"You better not eat half my kitchen," he joked, although he knew Barry was probably more than capable of actually doing that, "Now that you're staying here, I'm going to have to start buying more food."

"I'll go grocery shopping later," Barry called from the kitchen.

Joe could hear him rummaging through all the cupboards in the other room. He might not actually be a teenager now, but thanks to his powers, Barry certainly did eat like one.

* * *

"Celebrating casual Friday a few days early, Barry?" Iris asked when she walked into the living room later that evening, "Or just a rough Monday?"

Barry looked down at the clothes he was wearing. He had on just jeans and a T-shirt—way too casual compared to what he normally wore to work.

"I just changed after work," he answered simply.

"What are you working on?" Iris asked, looking at the papers he had laid out on the coffee table in front of him.

"Oh, um, just some CSI stuff," Barry answered vaguely, quickly hiding the papers from view, "It's sort of confidential. Open investigation and all."

It wasn't a complete lie. It did have to do with work, after all, and the assignment he was given _was_ confidential, so it wasn't really lying. In all actuality, though, he was working on his Spanish homework. He had been able to rapidly speed through most of his other homework, but Spanish was taking him longer because he had so much catching up to do.

He had a Spanish dictionary in front him the entire time that he had to repeatedly keep speed reading. For about five to ten minutes, he was fluent in the language and could practically speak it flawlessly, and then he would lose it. That was the downside to speed reading. He could only retain the information in his short-term memory, not his long-term. If it worked that way, he would have learned all the languages by now and memorized the encyclopedia or something.

Iris thankfully didn't press him for details as he put his papers away. Instead, she sat down next to him and pulled out her laptop.

"What are you working on?" he asked her, already suspecting her answer.

"My blog," she answered curtly.

She shot a quick glance at him, her expression serious, as if daring him to lecture her about it right now. Barry really didn't feel like getting into it with her about it tonight, so he let it slide. Instead, he finished packing up his stuff and stood up from the couch.

"You're really going to leave right now, Barry?" Iris demanded incredulously, "I know you don't like that I write about the Flash because you have some kind of problem with him, but that doesn't mean you have to leave the room when I work on my blog."

"Iris," Barry said seriously, "I never said I have a problem with the Flash. I think what he's doing is good. And I'm not leaving because of your blog. I'm just going to bed because I'm exhausted and I have an early morning tomorrow."

"Oh," she said in a small voice, her anger deflating, "Sorry, I guess I'm just a bit defensive about it. My dad's been giving me a hard time about it lately, too."

"He's just worried about you," Barry said gently, "Now that you've put your name on it, you could be putting yourself in danger."

Iris sighed.

"Barry, I really don't feel like talking about this right now," she said tiredly.

Barry sat back down on the couch, frowning as he looked at her face.

"Is something else bothering you?" he asked perceptively, seeing she was clearly stressing about more than just her blog at the moment.

Iris sighed again.

"It's nothing, Barry," she dismissed, looking back at her screen again.

Barry nudged her arm lightly, giving her a small smile.

"Come on," he said lightly, "You know I know you better than that."

Iris let out a heavy sigh.

"It's just…I feel like things have been really different between us lately," she said seriously, "Like everything has been different between us since you woke up from your coma."

Barry sighed and looked down at the couch between them.

"I know I haven't been myself lately," he said softly, "I'm sorry. Things have been…weird, since I woke up. It's just been a little hard to adjust."

"I feel like there's something you're not telling me," she said bluntly, "Like you're keeping something from me. I can tell there's something going on with you, but you're not telling me what it is."

Barry closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, overwhelmed with her accusation. God, there was so much he kept from her. The fact that he was the Flash was the big thing, but there were so many other things he didn't tell her, like how he felt about her. And now this stupid assignment of his. The secrets seemed to keep piling up, and Barry felt like he was going to explode if he continued to keep them all from his best friend. He was supposed to tell her everything. That's the way it had always been between them. They didn't keep secrets from each other, and now Barry felt like there were so many parts of his life that she didn't even know about. She didn't truly know _him_ anymore, something that saddened him deeply.

"You're right," he muttered.

Iris raised her eyebrows in shock. She had clearly expected him to deny it.

"You're right," he repeated, looking up to her eyes again, "I _have_ been keeping secrets from you."

Barry sighed.

"There isn't a gas leak in my building," he told her, "I had another reason for moving back home. I've been doing a special assignment for Singh lately, and moving back home was a part of it."

Iris frowned at him as she thought over this information.

"What's the assignment?" she asked curiously.

"I can't tell you that," he said instantly, "It's confidential. Trust me, if I could tell you about it, I would."

Iris crossed her arms.

"Since when do you not tell me about your work?" she asked, "You usually tell me everything."

"This is a really sensitive case," Barry replied in a strained voice, "Most of the department doesn't even know about it."

"Does my dad know?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Barry nodded.

"He's the lead detective on the case," he answered, "But even Eddie, his own partner, doesn't know about it. Like I said, it's a sensitive case."

Iris frowned at him.

"So, Eddie isn't in on it, but you are?" she asked in confusion, "What could possibly be so top secret?"

"Iris, if I could tell you about it, I would, but the less people that know about it the better," Barry said, "For now, I just need you to trust me."

Iris sighed and then gave him a serious look.

"You know I'm not going to stop until I find out what it is."

Barry smiled fondly at her.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," he said in amusement, "I'm going to go to bed now. I have to get up early tomorrow."

With that, Barry left the living room, leaving Iris to ponder over what assignment he could possibly have been given that was so top secret he was even keeping it from her. Iris wondered if it had something to do with STAR Labs and why Barry seemed to spend so much time there. She wondered if it was why he had been so distant with her—why he seemed to disappear at strange hours of the day and night. She wondered just how much of Barry's life she really didn't know about.


	5. Big Belly Burger

**Big Belly Burger**

* * *

Barry was serious when he said he had to get up early the next morning. He was supposed to have chemistry club on Tuesdays before school. What with track practice four days a week and chem club every week, on top of all the homework he had to do in his free time, he had half a mind to go to Singh and ask for overtime. This assignment was taking up way more of his time than the typical nine to five hours he normally worked, not to mention any other social gatherings he would have to go to in order to fall in with the right group of kids.

Maybe Singh would give him a nice bonus at the end of the year for this. Or maybe he'd finally promote him and give him that CSI director position he'd been working so hard for. Frankly, he was a damn good CSI and Barry felt like his talents and expertise were being wasted doing backyard chemistry experiments with a bunch of high school students on Tuesday mornings.

He had to admit, though, chemistry club was actually a lot of fun. Really, it was just a bunch of kids messing around in the chem lab doing experiments. The kids in the club reminded him a lot of himself back when he was in high school and found mixing up a batch of cadaverine fun. Barry fit right in with guys in the chem club. They weren't the same kids as the other social group he seemed to have fallen into, but wasn't the point of this for him to get to know as many different groups as possible?

"Have you guys ever made liquid oxygen?" Barry asked them excitedly after they had finished their simple cadaverine experiment.

"Are you crazy?" one of them asked him incredulously, "We can't do that here!"

"I didn't know you even _could_ make liquid oxygen," one boy, Chris, said, looking at Barry in confusion.

"Sure you can," Barry said cheerfully, "You can turn any element into a solid, liquid, or gas, given that you get it at the right pressure or temperature. Do you guys have a hyperbaric chamber vacuum here?"

They all blinked at him.

"Does this _look_ like the kind of lab that has a hyperbaric chamber vacuum?" One kid asked with a laugh, "This isn't STAR Labs."

Barry laughed.

"Yeah, I guess not," he said, still laughing, "We can still do it, though."

"How?" the six other boys all asked him, their eyebrows raising.

"You guys have to have liquid nitrogen here, right?" Barry asked.

"Yeah," one of them said, "I'm not sure what that has to do with pressure, though."

Barry smiled at him.

"Charles law," he said, "Pressure and temperature are related."

Their eyes all widened.

"Oh my god," one of them said excitedly, "Duh. You're right. We _can_ do it!"

They all practically bounced up and down with excitement. Barry couldn't help but be amused. He had done this experiment in college, and it had always been one of his favorites. He was excited to share it with them, and honestly, he was kind of excited to do it, too.

It had been a while since he had played around with chemicals just for fun. It's not like he exactly sat in his CSI lab all day, making liquid oxygen just for the hell of it. No, he was running countless fingerprint scans and ballistic tests. He had almost forgotten how freeing it was to do chemistry just for fun, and doing it with a bunch of enthusiastic high school kids somehow made it so much more exciting.

Barry took the lead on the experiment, seeing as none of them had ever worked with liquid nitrogen before, and it could be disastrous if mishandled. Barry set up a makeshift oxygen generator, using three percent hydrogen peroxide and manganese dioxide, answering the other boys' questions as he worked.

They all watched him curiously, in awe by how comfortable he seemed to be with his setup and the chemicals he worked with. He didn't even use a reference book or any kind of secondary source for information as he did it. He seemed to pull it all straight from his head, calculating the molar mass of each element he used and measuring out the amounts perfectly.

They all crowded around the lab bench when Barry removed his oxygen vile out of the nitrogen vacuum he had created. After wiping the ice away from the outside of the test tube, they all could see the pale blue liquid that now occupied the previously empty vial.

"Liquid oxygen," Barry said proudly, holding it up for them all to see.

"Woah," one boy, Troy, said in amazement as he stared at the vial, "That's got to be one of the coolest things I've ever seen."

Barry grinned at him. This was exactly why he really liked this group of kids. They appreciated the same things he did. Any other non-science lover would have been like "big deal, it's blue liquid," but these kids appreciated it for what it actually was and how rare it was to see.

"It's paramagnetized, too," Barry said excitedly, setting the test tube down and digging in the lab drawer for a magnet.

"How?" one of the boys asked, frowning, "Oxygen isn't paramagnetized."

"Actually it is," Barry answered, "But in its gaseous form, the molecules are moving too fast to be affected. But what happens when you cool something down?"

"It slows down," one of them said, understanding now what Barry meant.

Barry had to hold back a laugh as he thought of how much he wished cold didn't slow down fast things. If only Captain Cold could see him now.

The boys watched in awe as Barry held a magnet up to the test tube filled with liquid oxygen. The fluid followed the magnet and crept up the side of the tube when Barry raised it.

"This has got to be one of the coolest experiments we've ever done!" one of the boys said excitedly.

"It's also broken several school rules," a deep voice said from the doorway.

They all spun to see Mr. Agnew standing in the doorway of the lab. He walked closer to them, looking at the experiment they had set up on one of the lab benches.

"Liquid nitrogen," he said, "Manganese dioxide. Unsupervised use of the Bunsen burner."

He turned to face Barry, clearly aware that he was the culprit.

"Yeah, but Mr. Agnew," one of the other boys said, "Look at what Grant made! It's liquid oxygen!"

The middle-aged teacher looked briefly at the vial the boy was gesturing to, and for a moment, Barry thought he almost looked impressed, but he returned to his look of stern disapproval almost immediately.

"Only your second day here, Mr. West, and you're already breaking school rules."

"Sir, I didn't know we weren't supposed to use those lab supplies without supervision," Barry said sincerely, knowing that all he could really do now was apologize and explain, "If I had known that, I wouldn't have used them."

"Well, you didn't exactly think to ask first, now did you?" Mr. Agnew retorted dryly.

Barry didn't know what to say to that. Honestly, he hadn't even thought about asking for permission. It hadn't even crossed his mind to ask before using the lab supplies he needed, especially considering how he had been working with Bunsen burners and liquid nitrogen since he was ten years old. Obviously, he knew what he was doing, but Mr. Agnew didn't know that.

"That was dumb of me," Barry admitted reasonably, "I should have known there were school rules that needed to be followed. I'm really sorry."

"Well, unfortunately, Mr. West, sorry isn't going to get you boys out of trouble."

"What?" Barry asked, "You're not really going to punish _all_ of us? I was the one who used the supplies. They had nothing to do with it."

"They didn't exactly stop you, now did they?" Mr. Agnew retorted, "I'll see you boys in detention after school on Friday."

"What?!" they all groaned.

"Mr. Agnew," Barry said, "I'm sure we can work something out."

Mr. Agnew raised an eyebrow at him, and Barry could see he was clearly enjoying this. He wasn't going to discuss it with him like the adults they both were, because to Agnew, Barry was just an inferior high school kid and he was the authority figure in this situation.

"Clean up this mess and clear out of my lab," he said sternly, "I have a class in here in ten minutes."

Unfortunately, Barry would be a part of that class, despite his desire to put as much distance between this man and the sight of his arrogant face as possible. He had apologized, had tried to reason with him, but there was no reasoning with a smug, arrogant prick like that when you were playing the part of a seventeen-year-old kid.

"I'm sorry, guys," Barry said to the others as they cleaned up, "I didn't mean to get you all in trouble."

"Are you kidding?!" Chris said, "Grant, that was probably the best experiment we've ever done! Who cares if we got detention for it?"

"Agreed," a boy named Mason said, "You have me seriously excited for next week to see what other experiments you've got up your sleeve."

Barry smiled at him.

"I'll try not to get us in trouble next time," he said with a grin.

Actually, this was far from being the only time he had gotten in trouble for his experiments. As a kid, he had been grounded countless times by Joe for going overboard with his experiments in the garage, and he had even gotten in trouble with the school a few times, particularly for the time he started a chemical fire for his eighth grade science fair project. He had gotten suspended for that particular incident, but at least he won the science fair, which he still counted as a win in his book.

This incident reminded him strongly of that. The fact that these boys had all just gotten detention with him, and all they cared about was how amazing the experiment had been. It was the same kind of attitude about science that Barry had always had.

Chemistry class during the first hour of the day was almost painful to sit through after that. Barry was probably imagining it, but he thought Mr. Agnew kept shooting him smug looks throughout the class. He stubbornly refused to take out his notebook again out of spite for the man. What had originally been mild dislike was quickly turning into a burning hatred. He couldn't stand the sight of him.

Barry tried to talk to his lab partner, Brian, today while they were working on a simple titrating project, but his partner could barely look at him. He seemed incredibly shy, and Barry thought the kid seemed like he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. He seemed to resent every question Barry politely asked him, almost as if he thought Barry was mocking him. Eventually, Barry gave up on the one-sided conversation and went back to doing the lab in silence.

Barry's sex ed class was just as painful to sit through as it was the day before. The gym teacher, Mr. Colback, was covering female anatomy now, and the fact that he was so uncomfortable teaching it only made the class more uncomfortable. Granted, Barry doubted he could have done much better if it were him teaching, so he gave props to the guy for trying.

Glee club was interesting, to say the least. When they all walked into the classroom, everyone seemed to be nervously anticipating who was going to get the male solo part. Barry honestly didn't care all that much, as long as it wasn't him.

It was.

"Congratulations, Grant!" Justin said happily, clapping him on the back after Mr. Lindholm announced that he had gotten the part.

Barry just sat there, staring at him, thinking he must have heard him wrong. All the other Warblers had been telling him he would get the part for sure, but Barry hadn't actually thought he would get it.

"This is outrageous!" Noah complained, unabashed, "He only just joined the club, and he gets a solo?! He doesn't even know the routine!"

"Mr. Lindholm," Barry said, "If someone else wants the part, it's okay. They can have it."

"See!" Noah said hysterically, "He doesn't even appreciate it!"

"It's not that I don't appreciate it," Barry said hurriedly, "I just don't want to step on anybody's toes."

"Then _don't_ ," Noah said nastily.

"He got the part fair and square, Noah," Natalie, one of the female soloists who was also one of the girls who had been sitting at Barry's lunch table yesterday, said, "You're just mad because he's a better singer than you."

"Please," Noah scoffed, "Me and him, one on one anytime."

"Everyone, let's settle down now," Mr. Lindholm called out, reigning them all in, "My decision for the male solo is final, and there won't be any more discussion on this. Congratulations, Mr. West."

"Thanks," Barry said quietly, not really feeling like he had won in this scenario.

They started working on choreography then, something Barry wasn't exactly comfortable with, especially since all of the attention seemed to be on him with him being the lead soloist and all. He did his best to learn the dance moves, but this was all new to him and it didn't quite click right away. He found himself stepping in the opposite direction as the rest of them a few times or turning the wrong way at the wrong time, but they all were surprisingly patient with him—all except for Noah of course.

Barry realized by the end of the period, though, that he wasn't exactly stumbling or tripping over himself like his pre-lightning self probably would have been. He actually was quite coordinated and fluid with his movements, moving with way more grace than he ever thought he was even capable of. He just needed to learn the routine and get the moves down. Once he did that, Barry actually thought he might even be good at this.

"You're starting to get it," Justin assured him as they were walking to their Spanish class together, "Just give yourself a few days and some time to practice and I'm sure you'll get it down."

"Thanks," Barry said, "This is all kind of new to me. I've never really danced like this before. It's actually kind of fun. I didn't think I'd enjoy it this much."

And he meant it. Once he was starting to get the moves down and was moving with the rest of the group, Barry actually enjoyed himself. His problem was more the tempo than anything else. His speed had given him coordination, but it also had given him a different perception of time and tempo than everyone else. He had a hard time moving at the same pace the rest of them were. Really, this dancing business might actually be good for him. It might help him better control his powers and his perception of time and speed with his new abilities.

"It'll become easier when we add the singing to it," Justin assured him, "Everything kind of just ties together then. I know you're going to be awesome. A lot of us are really excited to have you in the club now. We might actually have a chance at sectionals now. Noah is a great singer and all, but crowds just don't respond to him that great for some reason. But you, with that face and that fancy haircut of yours, you're going to be a crowd pleaser for sure."

Barry blushed as they walked into the Spanish classroom, reaching up and touching the back of his head. Fancy haircut? He never really thought of his hair as fancy before. Iris had said this style suited him the best, so he just went with it. She must have been right, though.

He didn't have much time to ponder it, though, when the Spanish lesson started.

" _Buenas dias, chicos_ ," their Spanish teacher, Senora Broder, greeted them, " _Hoy, vamos a repasar la leccion de ayer._ "

"We're reviewing yesterday's lesson," Justin whispered to Barry.

Barry smiled at him gratefully because he hadn't really understood a word she had said. Unfortunately, Justin couldn't be his translator throughout the whole class, though, and when she started going into the lesson, Barry was as lost as he was the day before. Thankfully, though, Barry suddenly had an idea. Fifteen minutes into the lesson, he nudged Justin to get his attention.

"How do I ask if I can go to the bathroom?" he asked him quietly.

" _Puedo ir al bano_ ," Justin answered him with a grin.

"Thanks," he said, and then raised his hand.

"¿ _Puedo ir al bano_?" Barry asked Senora Broder.

"¿ _Por favor_?" he added to be polite.

He at least knew how to say please in Spanish.

" _Si_ ," she answered, and Barry didn't need to ask Justin to know that that meant yes.

He rose from his seat and left the classroom then. As soon as Barry was outside the classroom, he made sure the hallway was empty first before flashing to his locker to grab his Spanish dictionary. It wasn't cheating, right? Really, it wasn't fair that he was even put in this advanced Spanish class to begin with, so Barry didn't feel too guilty for speed reading the whole thing before returning to the classroom.

After doing that, Barry was able to follow the lesson easily. At least he knew what _por_ and _para_ meant now. He wrote his notes in a way that later, after he had forgotten everything he had speedread, he would still be able to understand it. Now he knew what he would have to do. If he just speedread the Spanish dictionary before each lesson, he was at least able to follow along. It didn't help him much as far as grammar went, but at least now he wasn't completely lost.

Barry was still relieved when the time came to go to lunch. It was only the second day, and he was already feeling drained from his classes. As he was walking with his lunch tray towards his lunch table, Barry noticed his lab partner, Brian, was sitting at a lunch table by himself in the corner of the lunch room. He had assumed Brian was just standoffish, but now Barry wondered if there was another reason the kid had been so distant with him. It didn't seem like he had any friends.

His attention was pulled away from the loner kid when he heard his friends calling out to him at his table. Barry smiled at them as he sat down, listening to the conversation they were having as he joined them.

"I mean, he teaches the class as if we don't know anything," Forrest, who was in Barry's sex ed class, was saying, "You'd think we're all virgins or something."

"Hey, some of us are, Forrest," Stefanie said boldly, "We don't all sleep around the way you do."

Forrest shrugged and then nudged Barry.

"Grant knows what I mean," he said with a laugh, "I bet you got laid all the time at your old school."

Barry just laughed.

"I'm not really that way," he said uncomfortably.

"What, you're a virgin?" Michael, the kid from his track team asked.

"No," Barry said with a shrug, "I'm just not one to sleep around."

"Thank you," Stefanie said appreciatively, "Glad I'm not the only one with morals here."

A few other girls at the table nodded their approval.

"Well, I've been getting laid since sophomore year," Forrest said proudly.

"Junior year for me," Michael and Justin both said.

They all looked at Barry then. Barry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not really liking this conversation very much.

"Senior year," he said awkwardly, "At my old school."

"Damn," Forrest said, "And here I've been at it since I was fifteen."

"Forrest, you only lost your virginity at fifteen because you got Melony Fischer drunk at Cole Duvek's party. She'll sleep with anyone after she's had a few."

"Melony was my first, too," Michael said with a laugh.

"Mine was Jackie Dombrowski," Justin admitted shyly.

"Ugh, Jackie Dombrowski?" Forrest said, "Man, tough blow."

"Well, we were in her parent's hot tub at her party last year," Justin said with a laugh, "I was drunk. Leave me alone."

"How 'bout you, Grant? Who was your first?" Forrest asked, "Anyone we would know?"

"Probably not," Barry laughed, "It was someone back in—back in my old school. Her name was Vanessa. She was the new girl in school, and she was a bit of a bad influence. She convinced me to skip school one day and we were hanging out at my house. My foster dad ended up coming home for his lunch break and walked in on us. It was a nightmare."

They all laughed at his story, and Barry blushed. He was just glad they didn't ask him about his second time. He couldn't exactly explain to them that the only other girl he had slept with in high school was their English teacher, Ms. Cooper.

"Wait, you have a foster dad?" Natalie asked him, "You're a foster kid?"

"Sort of," Barry answered uncomfortably, "I _was_ a foster kid. I'm adopted now. I have the same last name and everything."

"What happened to your parents?" Michael asked him.

"Car crash," Barry answered immediately, "They both died in a car crash when I was eleven."

"Sorry to hear that," Justin said sympathetically.

All the girls at the table looked at Barry like he was a lost puppy.

"It was a long time ago," Barry said simply.

"Not that long," Michael said, frowning, "You're only seventeen, right? That would have been like, six years ago."

"Yeah," Barry answered quickly, "I just mean that it feels like it was a long time ago. Then again, sometimes it feels like it was yesterday."

"Do you at least like your foster family?" Justin asked him.

"Definitely," Barry answered, "Joe has been great, and I have an older sister, Iris, who's always been very supportive of me."

"You have an older sister?" Forest asked.

Barry nodded.

"Hey, any chance she's over twenty-one and can get us some booze for this weekend?" he asked, "My brother was supposed to get it for us when he was home this last weekend, but he didn't buy any before going back to school and kind of left us hanging."

Barry shifted uncomfortably.

"She's out of town till next week," he lied.

"Bummer," Forrest said, "Guess we'll just have to get it somewhere else. Anyone have a fake, by chance?"

Barry had to fight the urge to laugh as he shook his head along with everyone else. He could run to the liquor store right now and buy whatever he wanted. That is, _if_ he wanted to. He doubted Singh would appreciate him supplying alcohol to a bunch of high school kids.

"Hey, you're going to my party this weekend, though, right?" Forrest asked, "Half the school is going to be there. The cool half at least."

Barry didn't know what to say. He couldn't exactly be caught partying with a bunch of underage kids, but going to a high school party might actually be the perfect opportunity for him to find out more about vertigo.

"I'll have to see," Barry said unsurely, "I might already have plans."

He would have to check with Singh first. He didn't want to pass up this opportunity, but he also didn't want to cross any lines as far as his job went. He wasn't sure what he was really allowed to do, being undercover and all, especially considering how he wasn't even a real cop.

* * *

"Are you going to explain to me everything that's going on now?" Becky asked him when he entered her classroom early after cutting his lunch short.

"I'm sorry," he said, walking over to her desk and leaning on the edge of it, "I know you must be confused."

"I'm _very_ confused," she said, "What on earth could you be undercover for that you would need to be undercover in a high school?"

"Vertigo," Barry answered quietly.

"Vertigo?" Becky asked, "You mean that drug from Starling?"

"It's in Central City now," Barry told her seriously, "Todd Swenson, the kid who overdosed last month, he overdosed on vertigo."

"That's terrible," Becky said, appalled, "I didn't even realize kids were taking it in this school."

"It's a lot of them as far as I can tell," Barry said seriously, "My job is to figure out who's supplying it to them."

"But you're a CSI," Becky said, "Why are you working undercover?"

Barry smiled at her.

"You looked me up, huh?" he said, just a hint of smugness in his voice.

Becky blushed.

"And if I did?" she asked, a small smile on her face.

Barry laughed and shook his head.

"I'm only undercover because I was the only one who looked young enough to pull it off," he said, "I've gotten a few comments from people that I look a bit old for my age, but no one's really questioned it much so far."

"You look like you've hardly aged a day since high school, Barry," Becky laughed, "You look good."

Barry smiled at her.

"Thanks," he said, "You're looking pretty good yourself."

Becky smiled and looked down.

"I can't believe you're a teacher now," Barry said, "I thought you always said you wanted to be a nurse."

"You remember that?" she laughed.

Barry laughed, too.

"Of course," he said, gesturing to his head, "Steal trap."

Becky laughed.

"Turns out I wasn't very good with needles," she said.

And so on they went, catching up after the many years since they had seen each other. Barry really enjoyed talking with Becky in those twenty minutes before class. He found himself planning to maybe end lunch early every day so he could go talk to her.

The rest of Barry's day went by fairly quickly and uneventfully. He was exhausted by the time he was done with track practice and wanted nothing more than to go home and eat half Joe's kitchen again. He would have to do some grocery shopping tonight. He felt bad for eating Joe's food all the time.

He didn't go straight home after track practice, though. Instead, he and Michael went to Big Belly Burger after practice to meet up with the rest of their friends. It was strange, but Barry was already starting to consider this group of kids his actual friends. Sure, Forrest could be a bit of an ass at times, but he seemed to get along well with "Grant" just fine, and in the end they were all a bunch of vertigo users, but ultimately Barry enjoyed hanging out with them. It reminded him of hanging out with his small group of friends he had back in high school.

"I thought you said you didn't have a fake," Forrest said to him as he was paying for his food at the counter.

"What?" Barry asked.

"Your ID," Forrest answered, pointing at Barry's wallet that was open in his hand.

"Oh," Barry said, getting flustered, "Well, it's not a very good one. I don't really use it."

"It looks pretty authentic to me," Forrest said, looking closer at the ID, "The only thing that sucks is the name. What the hell kinda name is Bartholomew? Why didn't you at least pick a normal name?"

"I didn't get to pick the name," Barry said defensively.

His name was actually a bit of a touchy subject for him. He used to be teased all the time in grade school for it. At least now, his cover name was somewhat normal, not an old man's name like Bartholomew. He had been named after his grandfather after all.

"So you can buy us booze then, right?" Forrest asked him.

Barry looked at him uncomfortably. He was backed into a corner.

"I guess so," he said slowly.

"Great!" Forrest said happily, clapping Barry on the back, "You're the man, Grant!"

Oh God. What had Barry gotten himself into? How was he going to explain this to Singh? He had to find a way out of this. What if he just told them later that he lost his fake? Would they go for that?

"God, I could eat like fifty of these things," Micheal said as they were sitting down at a table and digging into their burgers.

Barry had to fight the urge to laugh. He could _literally_ eat fifty of them—and more.

"I bet I could eat more of them than you," Forrest challenged, "You have a weak stomach. I outdrink you all the time. I bet I could out-eat you any day."

"You're on!" Michael said, "Big Belly Burger eating contest right here, right now."

"Oh, I am so in on this!" Justin joined in.

"What about you, Grant?" Forrest asked, "You in?"

"I'm good," Barry laughed.

"Oh, come on," Justin urged him, "It'll be fun."

"He'll probably puke," Forrest laughed, "Little guy probably can't eat very much."

Barry just shook his head. They had no clue just how much he could eat. And he wasn't even that little. Forrest was jacked, but Barry was bigger than Micheal, and Justin was only slightly bigger than he was. Barry was a lot taller than all of them, though.

"What, you scared you'll lose?" Forrest taunted.

Barry sighed.

"Fine then," he said, "I'm in."

He was a competitive person after all. Sure, Forrest had no clue what he was going up against, but it was his own fault for taunting Barry.

After buying a boatload of big belly burgers, the group sat back down in front of them, ten burgers in front of each of them. Barry smirked to himself. This was going to be easy. Ten burgers was nothing.

"Alright, ready?" Justin said, getting ready to start his stop watch, "Go!"

Barry started to eat. He was careful not to eat too fast, knowing he could easily scarf the burgers down in less than twenty seconds if he wanted to. He ate fast, though, because let's face it; He wanted to win. It was a stupid contest, but Barry found himself actually wanting to win. He wanted to show Forrest just how much a "little guy" could eat.

"Ugh," Michael groaned after the third burger, "I cave."

They had all eaten one burger each before that after all. Barry laughed. He was on his fifth burger already, trying hard to pace himself, but he was actually really hungry. All he had eaten that day was a quick breakfast and a pitiful school cafeteria lunch. His stomach was still growling after the fifth burger.

"I'm out, too," Justin said after a minute, halfway through his fifth burger. He looked like he was ready to puke.

Forrest managed to eat six before he turned a sickly shade of green. He looked at Barry in shock. He was on his eighth burger already and showed no signs of stopping. Determined, Forrest picked up his next burger.

He only managed one bite of his seventh before he set it down in defeat. They all stared at Barry then as he polished off the last burger, savoring the last bite.

"Done," Barry said once he was finished, a small smile on his face.

They all stared at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Holy shit," Justin said in disbelief, "Where do you put it all?!"

Barry shrugged.

"I was hungry," he said simply.

"Ten bucks says he'll puke," Forrest said, looking like he was about ready to throw up himself.

Barry shook his head and laughed.

"I feel fine," he said with a grin.

"Oh my God," Michael said, slumping in his chair, "If he doesn't puke, I'm going to puke. I can't believe you ate all of those."

"Props, Grant," Forest said with a laugh, "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Coach is gonna kill us if he finds out we ate all this garbage," Michael laughed.

"Well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him," Barry said, laughing.

His cellphone started to ring then, and he looked to see it was Cisco calling.

"Sorry, I gotta take this," Barry said, standing up.

He moved away from the table to take the call.

"Barry," Cisco said when he answered, "Where are you?"

Barry glanced back at the table.

"Just finishing up some work stuff," he said quietly into the phone.

"Well, Dr. Wells really wanted you to come in to train tonight," Cisco said.

"Alright," Barry said, "I'll be there in a minute."

"Have you eaten enough?" Cisco asked.

Barry laughed.

"Yeah," he said, "I'll just grab some Big Belly Burger on my way."

"Alright," Cisco said, "Sounds good. We don't want you passing out on us. See you in a bit then."

"See ya," Barry said, hanging up the phone.

He walked back over to the table.

"I've gotta go," Barry said to them, quickly thinking of an excuse, "I've got chores to do."

"Man that sucks," Justin said sympathetically.

"See you later then, Grant!" Michael said.

"See you," Forrest said, still shaking his head in amazement, "I'll beat you next time, Grant."

Barry laughed.

"We'll see about that," Barry said with a smirk before leaving.

A part of him actually didn't really want to go. He was starting to like these kids a bit _too_ much.


	6. Friend Requests

**Friend Requests**

* * *

"Where were you?" Caitlin asked, once Barry had flashed his way into the cortex.

"Just working late," Barry answered vaguely, not exactly lying.

Cisco frowned at him.

"You worked late yesterday, too," he pointed out.

"Yeah, Singh has me on a new case," Barry said, rubbing the back of his neck, "It's been taking up all my time."

"Well, be that as it may, Mr. Allen," Dr. Wells said, wheeling into the cortex, "You still have quite a bit of work to do here regarding your speed."

"Sorry," Barry said, "I'll try harder to get here sooner in the afternoons."

Barry went straight to the treadmill room then. He tried to clear his thoughts as he stepped up on the treadmill, and he ran for a solid hour, trying not to imagine the look on his track coach's face if he could see him now. Michael would be so jealous. He took track very seriously and would probably be green with envy if he found out Barry was the Flash. He wondered how all of them would react if they found out that the new guy in their high school was actually Central's City very own superhero—or an undercover CSI, for that matter.

"You seem distracted, Mr. Allen," Wells said, giving him a serious look as Barry walked out of the treadmill room an hour later.

Dr. Wells looked at Barry with those piercing blue eyes of his that always made Barry feel like the man could see right through him. He almost would have thought Wells knew exactly what Barry had been thinking about while he ran, but that would have been impossible. The only people who knew were him, Joe, and the captain.

Barry's attention was pulled away from Dr. Wells, though, when he looked over and saw what Cisco was doing on his computer screen.

"For real?!" Barry said in exasperation, "I bust my ass for an hour running, and you've been back here playing video games?!"

"Relax," Cisco said dismissively, not taking his eyes off the screen, "Wells was monitoring you. No offense, dude, but watching you run gets a bit boring after a while."

"I'm running at over six hundred miles an hour," Barry said, crossing his arms, "What could possibly be boring about that?"

Cisco stifled a yawn, still looking at the screen.

"Been there, done that," he said with a smirk, pushing Barry's buttons for fun.

"Oh, really?" Barry said, his own smirk sliding onto his face, "You've run at 642 miles an hour?"

Cisco laughed.

"I meant I've seen it before," he said, "And I'm sure I'll get to see again plenty of other times in the future."

Barry just rolled his eyes, but he laughed.

"So, you'd rather just play some Sonic the Hedgehog video game than see the real thing?" he pointed out.

Cisco shrugged.

"Hey, he does cool stuff that you don't do," he said, "I can make him do this thing where he rolls around at the speed of sound. It's pretty awesome."

Barry laughed.

"Well, sorry I don't exactly go around doing summersaults at superspeed," Barry said, "This isn't a Zelda game. Rolling around won't make me faster. It'll just make me look stupid."

Cisco snorted as he turned off the game and turned to look at Barry.

"I'm sorry, but that would actually be really funny to see," he laughed.

Barry laughed, too, and then left the room to change into a fresh set of clothes before taking a seat in the desk behind the cortex, drumming his fingers on the desk, already bored.

"Any Flash stuff?" he asked Caitlin hopefully, who was sitting a few feet away from him.

"The city is surprisingly quiet today," she answered, going back to her work.

Barry glanced over to see was she was doing.

"Is that my hair?!" he asked her, looking at what she had on her microscope slide.

"Yes," she answered, not removing her eye from the lens she was looking through.

"Umm," Barry said, weirded out, "Okay? What are you doing with it?"

"Ever since you were whining to me the other day about the fact you have to shave multiple times a day, I decided to look into what makes your hair grow so fast."

Barry crossed his arms.

"I wasn't whining," he told her under his breath, "It _does_ suck, though. I have to get a haircut—"

" —every week," she finished for him, "Yeah, you told me, when you were _whining_."

"Well, it sucks!" Barry said defensively, "I have to go to four different barber's shops so people aren't weirded out about the fact I'm in there every week."

He watched her for a moment as she changed the magnification on her microscope.

"Hang on," he said slowly, "How did you get that hair?"

Caitlin suddenly refused to look at him as she refocused the microscope.

"I may have…" she said awkwardly, "Plucked it from you when you were unconscious last week after your fight with that metahuman."

Barry goggled at her for a moment.

"You just took it from me when I was unconscious?" he asked her incredulously, "I'm pretty sure there are some kind of…consent issues there."

Caitlin rolled her eyes at him and looked back at her microscope again.

"Consider it payment for taking care of you," she joked.

Barry laughed.

"Alright," he said, "You take care of me, I give you a hair. That's not a bad deal, I guess."

He went back to drumming his fingers on the desk then. This was so boring. A few months ago, Barry would have been ecstatic to be there, in STAR Labs, hanging out with some of the world's best scientists, including _the_ Dr. Wells, his lifelong idol. Maybe Cisco was right. "Been there, done that" pretty much summed it up. Now, he was bored and couldn't stop thinking about how much homework he could be doing right now, rather than just sitting here.

Barry rolled his chair over to one of the computers, logging into Facebook after making sure Caitlin wasn't looking. She was too preoccupied with studying his hair, though. He returned his eyes to the screen then.

He had created a fake account for his alter ego and had used his limited but not rudimentary computer skills to make it look real, with fake posts, photos, and even friends. People from Starling were probably going to be confused how they suddenly became friends with Grant West on Facebook, but most people had so many Facebook friends who they didn't even know that they wouldn't notice one more person they didn't know. Creating a fake account and making it look realistic had been scarily easy for him.

At this rate, though, he wouldn't need fake Facebook friends. He had fifty-two friend requests today. Yesterday, he had gotten forty-six. In just two days at East Central High, Barry had gotten nearly a hundred friend requests, which was saying something considering the school only had about 400 kids in it.

Barry was going about accepting all the requests when suddenly his hand on the mouse froze, his eyes locked on the screen as he looked at one of the friend requests he had gotten. A friend request from one Iris West.

She had figured it out.

How had she figured it out?! He had only been undercover for two days! He could hide the fact that he spent his free time running around as the Flash from her for months, but he couldn't keep a simple work assignment from her for more than a couple days?!

Barry sighed as he clicked accept. Most people were friends on Facebook with their siblings anyways, and he had told everyone at lunch today that he had a sister. It only made sense to accept her request.

Barry was just about to take out his phone to call her, but he stopped when he heard a ping come from the computer in front of him. He had a message from Iris. Barry rolled his eyes and clicked on it.

 ** _IW:_** _Hey, GRANT ;)_

Barry sighed before he started to type.

 ** _GW:_** _How did you figure it out?_

It took Iris a while to respond as she was typing.

 ** _IW:_** _You left some of your homework on the kitchen table this morning. It had your "name" on it, so naturally I did some digging to figure out who the hell Grant West was. You should have heard my scream when I found your Facebook profile and saw your picture. I was laughing so hard!_

Barry rolled his eyes.

 ** _GW:_** _So I guess you know what my big secret assignment is now._

 ** _IW:_** _Yup :p God, you made it sound like it was this super cool, top secret mission or something. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were actually undercover in high school! lmao_

Barry groaned, and he was about to respond back when another message from Iris popped up.

 ** _IW:_** _I want details ASAP!_

Barry just sighed.

 ** _GW:_** _I'll tell you later when I get home. Gotta go_

With that, Barry turned off the computer, but not before logging out first. The last thing he needed was for Cisco, Caitlin, or Dr. Wells to stumble upon "Grant's" Facebook page.

"I'm going to go take a lap," he told Caitlin, "See if I can catch a purse snatcher or something."

"Okay," she said, still completely preoccupied with Barry's hair.

Barry shook his head at her before quickly changing into his suit at super speed and flashing out of the room.

She had been right. The city _was_ quiet right now. Barry flashed around for nearly an hour and didn't find anything or anyone that needed the Flash's help. At this rate, he was going to be out of job, not that he got paid for this anyways, but still.

Barry finally got a chance to do some good when he was running along McKinley Street and saw a kid who was about to be hit by a truck. The teenaged kid was playing around with his camera, taking different angled shots of the street and its buildings, clearly not paying any attention to where he was walking, and he ended up stepping out right in front of a truck.

Barry flashed over to him and pulled him out of the way easily, just before the truck was about to hit him. The kid stumbled slightly in shock when Barry released him. As he reoriented himself and looked around, his eyes bulged when they landed on Barry.

Barry normally flashed away after saving someone, not sticking around for a thank you, but he was stopped when he looked at the kid's face. It was his lab partner from school. Brian something.

"Oh, my God," Brian said in shock, "It's the Flash!"

Barry quickly blurred his face just in case. This kid wasn't like Iris. He barely even knew Barry, but Barry didn't want to risk the kid recognizing him either way.

"I'm your biggest fan!" Brian gushed, "I've been dying to meet you!"

This was the most Barry had heard the kid talk so far. Brian had barely responded whenever he tried to talk to him in class, and now he had the kid's full attention.

"Well, stepping out in front of a truck wasn't a very safe way to do it," Barry joked, vibrating his voice.

"Oh, my God!" Brian said, running a hand through his hair, "Thank you so much! You just saved my life!"

"That's my job," Barry said, smiling at him, "No thanks necessary."

He was about to take off then, but Brian stopped him.

"Wait!" he said urgently, "Before you go, would you mind letting me get a picture with you?"

He held up his camera hopefully, but Barry shook his head.

"Sorry," he said, "I'm a bit camera shy. I've gotta go. Try to be more careful where you walk in the future, okay?"

Barry didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he quickly sped off before Brian could try to take a picture of him. The last thing he needed was another picture of the Flash ending up on Iris's blog. She had already pulled that one on him by taking a picture of him with her phone when he wasn't paying attention, and he was determined not to make that mistake again.

"I will," Brian said to himself after the Flash had disappeared.

Brian grinned the entire rest of the way home. Wait till everyone at school heard about this!

* * *

When Barry made it back to STAR Labs, he knew it would probably be best if he went home right away. He didn't feel much like facing Iris, but he knew it was best to just get it out of the way right away. She was probably sitting at home right now, waiting for him to come home and explain everything.

"Hey guys," he said to everyone, "I've got to go. I have to go grocery shopping for Joe."

"Why?" Cisco asked in confusion.

"Oh, I forgot to mention to you guys," Barry said to them, "I'm living back at home with him for a while. I've been eating all of his food, and it's driving him crazy."

"Why?" Cisco asked again.

Barry gave him a confused look.

"Because I eat about ten thousand calories a day," he said obviously.

"No, I mean, why are you living at home?"

"Oh," Barry said, scratching the back of his head, "It's only temporary. It's kind of a long story. I'll explain it to you later. I've gotta go."

After Barry flashed out of the lab, Cisco turned to the other two, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Do you think Barry's hiding something from us?"


	7. Twelve-Year-Old Bullies

**Twelve-Year-Old Bullies**

* * *

"Woah," Iris said when she walked into the kitchen to find Barry unpacking groceries, "Did you buy the whole store?"

"What?" Barry asked as he was reaching into a bag and pulling things out.

"This is a _lot_ of groceries, Bar," she laughed.

"Oh," Barry said with a slight shrug of his shoulder, "I guess there's a reason why they say to never grocery shop on an empty stomach. Everything looks good."

Iris laughed and reached for a bag to help him unpack.

"So, spill, Grant," she demanded with a laugh as she put a box of cereal away in the cupboard, "What's this whole assignment business?"

Barry sighed.

"It's just something Singh put me on for a little while," he said dismissively.

"And it involves you going to high school," Iris choked, covering her mouth as if she were about explode with laughter.

"It's actually a very important assignment," Barry said defensively, although he had a smile on his face nonetheless.

He couldn't really blame her for finding it funny. Of course she was going to give him shit for it.

"Whose bad side did you get on to get stuck doing _that_?" Iris laughed, "Or was it just your baby face?"

"Hey, maybe Singh just trusts me the most," Barry pointed out.

"It was your baby face," Iris concluded.

Barry huffed and rolled his eyes before sighing.

"Fine, it was my face," he admitted, and Iris laughed.

"So tell me," she said excitedly, "What's the mission?"

Barry sighed in exasperation.

"You know I can't tell you that, Iris," he said.

"Oh, come on," she whined, "I think I've earned it after figuring it out on my own. Just give me something."

Barry let out a heavy sigh and looked at her.

"Let's just say there's been some shady stuff going on in high school's lately, and Singh recruited me to go undercover and find out who's behind it."

"He picked _you_ ," Iris said skeptically, "To go undercover?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" Barry asked her.

Iris nodded.

"Yes," she laughed, "Barry, you're far from being some James Bond spy with a double life. You can't tell a lie to save your life. You're a terrible liar. Your ears go red every time."

Barry gave her a small smile that didn't seem to quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, you're right," he said quietly, "I'm no James Bond."

He coughed then and cleared his throat.

"Thankfully, high school kids aren't that hard to fool, though," he said, "I don't think anyone there exactly suspects me of being an undercover cop."

"Yeah, I guess why would they?" Iris said thoughtfully.

She grinned at him then.

"What?" Barry asked.

"Nothing," she said smoothly, "I was just reading through some of your classmates' posts today."

"And?" he asked, not understanding why she was smirking at him.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up Facebook to read aloud some of the posts she had seen.

" _Best dodgeball game of all time! You don't mess with the G-force! You the man, Grant!"_

Barry blushed, and she read another one.

 _"_ _That moment when a student makes a teacher look like a total ass-hat. Grant West, you just made my day."_

"Okay, enough," Barry laughed, turning completely red.

Iris laughed and tutted at him.

"When did you become such a badass, Barry?" she laughed, "And since when are you good at dodgeball? You _hate_ dodgeball."

Barry groaned and rubbed a hand over his face.

"I'm just trying to get through this assignment," he said warily, "And that includes playing stupid dodgeball games."

She laughed.

"I'm just giving you a hard time," she said, smacking him lightly on the arm, "I'm glad you're having fun."

"Well, I wouldn't necessarily call it fun," Barry said, but then he smiled to himself, "It's not as bad as I thought it would be, though."

* * *

Barry got to his first hour chemistry class just a few seconds before the bell rang, and he praised himself for his victory of not being late again. He had cut it close, though, and the look Mr. Agnew gave him as he walked to his seat didn't escape Barry's notice. He wasn't sure how, but Barry was convinced he had gotten the teacher to really hate him. It was a foreign feeling to him. It was the first time in his life he had ever had a teacher dislike him, and Barry found that the dislike was mutual.

He sat down next to his lab partner, Brian, and he remembered the awkward exchange he had had with the kid yesterday as the Flash. The kid didn't talk nearly as much as he had yesterday to the Flash, though. In fact, didn't say a single word to Barry. He seemed even more closed off today than ever, and Barry understood why a moment later when a piece of rolled up paper suddenly hit the kid in the back. Barry glanced back to see who had thrown it, and he saw a couple boys behind him, snickering in their seats.

Barry's hands clenched into fists, his mind instantly flashing back to when he was in high school and had Tony Woodward and his friends throwing things at him in biology class when the teacher wasn't looking.

Another ball of paper bounced off Brian's back.

"Pst!" one of the boys behind them said, keeping his voice low so Agnew wouldn't hear him, "Hey, Brian. Why don't you tell us more about your little pal, the Flash?"

The boys snickered behind them, and Brian didn't respond. He just ignored them. Barry felt terrible for the kid. He had been in this exact position before, too, and he had always handled it the same way, by simply ignoring his bullies and trying not to let them get to him.

Barry had been wrong when he had thought schools had done away with bullying these days. He simply wasn't the one being bullied now. It was someone else.

Barry assumed this Brian kid must have eagerly told the other students about his encounter with the Flash yesterday, and from the sounds of it, they thought he was making the whole thing up or something, and now he was being made fun of for it. Barry, unfortunately, knew all about not having people believe in him. He knew what it was like to be made fun of for claiming the impossible exists.

When another ball of paper bounced off the back of his lab partner's head, Barry saw red. He suddenly found himself spinning around in his chair to glare at the other boys.

"Knock it off," he gritted at them, narrowing his eyes.

One of the boys raised his eyebrows at him and smiled, looking at his friend. Both boys laughed lightly and looked back at him.

"What?" one of them asked sarcastically, holding his hands out innocently, "I was just trying to talk to him."

"No," Barry said angrily, "You're acting like a stupid twelve-year-old bully, and there's really nothing funny or cool about it. You're not impressing anyone, so just cut it out."

The other guy held his hands up in a mock-defeated gesture. He was still smiling, but he seemed like he was finally going to back off, so Barry just sighed angrily and turned back around without another word.

The boys behind them clearly hadn't taken Barry very seriously, but at least they stopped after that. Barry could hear them still whispering to each other and snickering, but at least they didn't throw any more paper at Brian.

"Thanks," Brian whispered dully, not looking at Barry.

"No problem," Barry said quietly back to him before both of them returned their attention back to the lecture.

That was the end of their exchange then. Brian didn't say another word to Barry after that, and he rushed out of the classroom quickly after the bell rang. Barry felt like he was finally starting to understand the kid a little more.

* * *

When Barry walked into the CCPD that afternoon after finishing his track practice, he felt a bit off. Only three days in high school and he was already starting to feel like an actual teenager again. It felt weird walking into his workplace, surrounded by all his adult coworkers for his adult job. He had to shift his mindset a little bit to get out of his Grant West frame of mind and back into his Barry Allen mindset.

He quickly made his way up the stairs to go to his lab. He couldn't help it. Three days away from the lab had him a little nervous and made him want to check on things. CSI Southworth was currently maintaining the lab and handling all the CSI work for the precinct in Barry's absence. He was an older man, and he was technically Barry's superior, being the head CSI of the department. He normally didn't do much, though. He usually just sat in his downstairs office of the precinct while Barry did all the heavy lifting and had free reign of the lab upstairs. Southworth just "supervised" while Barry usually did most of the actual CSI work, something that most people in the CCPD were quite aware of.

It wasn't that Barry didn't trust the director to do his job. He really was a good CSI and all. The only problem was that Southworth had stopped caring about his job years ago. Really, the man was ready to retire, and he didn't take cases very seriously anymore, not like Barry did.

"Ah, Allen," Southworth said when Barry walked into the lab, "I'm glad you're here. I was hoping to delegate a few of these cases to you. I went to the scenes yesterday, but most of the prints I got belonged to Detective Dilloshaw."

Barry laughed lightly.

"I've asked him several times to wear gloves," he said, "He refuses. I've found it easier to just take extra print samples at any scenes he works at. Also, Dilloshaw has a tented loop type of fingerprint, which is extremely rare, so most of the time you can see right away which ones are his."

"Yes, well," Southworth said seriously, "I was going to ask you to go out to the scenes and get a few more samples for me."

Barry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. It was typical Southworth. He always tried to delegate tasks to Barry that he didn't want to do himself. Barry didn't really consider the man lazy, but he did tend to use his superiority over Barry to hand off any jobs he didn't feel like doing himself, which was pretty much every job. Barry thought maybe Southworth might start appreciating him more, now that he wasn't at the precinct, leaving Southworth to do all the work that Barry normally had to do.

"Actually, this is just a pit stop," Barry said awkwardly, "I'm still working on that special case for Singh at precinct three. I just wanted to stop in and see how everything was going."

He looked around the lab then and had to stop himself from cringing. Southworth had made a real mess of the place. Granted, Barry wasn't the most organized person either, but he usually kept his lab a lot tidier than this. He always knew where everything was, and now when he returned to the lab, he knew it was going to take him a while to get everything back to how he had it before. Really, the lab wasn't _his_. It belonged to the CCPD, and CSI Southworth had just as much a right to it as Barry did, but over time the lab had started to feel like his, and most people in the precinct even referred to it as Barry's lab. Barry found that he didn't really like the idea of another CSI working in his space, moving things around and reorganizing everything. He didn't like it at all.

"Well, I hope you finish the assignment soon," Southworth said simply.

"Trust me," Barry said, "I'm trying to."

When Barry left the lab and went back downstairs, he ran headlong into Joe at the bottom of the stairs.

"Barry," Joe said in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on the lab," Barry told him, "Southworth has really made himself at home."

Joe laughed.

"Yeah, I noticed," he chuckled, "I think he's anxious for you to come back. He's not used to actually _working_."

Barry laughed.

"It seems like he's got it under control, though," he said, "Oh, and don't worry. I flashed my way in here, so there's no way any of my classmates saw me or anything. Even if they did, I could pass it off as just visiting my foster dad at work."

Joe nodded.

"Actually, it's good you're here," he said, "Singh wanted to see you. He wants an update."

"Oh," Barry said, shifting uncomfortably.

He felt bad. He hadn't really managed to find out much about the whole vertigo situation yet and didn't really have much to report back to the captain.

"He just wants to know how everything's going," Joe assured him, sensing Barry's discomfort, "He doesn't expect you to crack the whole operation in just three days."

"Right," Barry said, feeling a little better, "I'll go talk to him then."

With that, Barry made his way to Singh's office.

"Allen," Singh said, smiling at him when he walked in, "Just the person I wanted to see."

It felt weird for Barry to have the captain smiling at him. He was so used to Singh's stern frown of disapproval when he looked at him. He supposed Singh was grateful to him for agreeing to this assignment. Even if they had qualified and looked young enough to pull it off, Barry highly doubted that anyone else at the CCPD would have agreed to go back to high school for Singh.

"How are things going at East Central High?" the captain asked when Barry had taken a seat across the desk from him.

"It's all going pretty good," Barry said, "I'm sorry, I haven't really found out that much on the vertigo stuff, but I think I'm on the right track."

Singh gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I understand it's going to take a little while to find the supplier," he said, "Right now, your job is to get to know as many people as possible. Make friends."

Singh gave Barry an uneasy look with these words, and Barry knew why. Just like everyone else, the captain seemed to question Barry's ability to make friends.

"I've actually been making quite a bit of progress with that," Barry said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice, "I've fallen into the perfect group of kids. It seems they know some stuff about vertigo. They've tried it before, at least. I haven't gotten them to tell me where to get it from yet, though. I didn't want to push it by asking too soon. I thought it would look suspicious."

"Good thinking," Singh said, nodding his approval, "I want you to focus your attention on them for now then. In the meantime, you can tell me their names, and Joe and I will start trying to trace everyone they've recently come into contact with."

The captain picked up a pen and poised his hand on his notepad, looking up expectantly at Barry, who was giving him an uneasy look.

"Their names?" he asked uncomfortably.

Singh nodded.

"Why do you need their names?" Barry asked.

Singh frowned at him.

"The more we know about the situation, the better," he said seriously, "And that includes knowing which kids are actually using the drug."

Barry sighed.

"Sir, I don't know if I feel comfortable revealing their names," he said quietly.

"What?" Singh said, taken aback.

"They trust me," Barry said earnestly, "And they've been so welcoming and…they're good kids, sir. They just make mistakes. They're young."

Singh stared at Barry for a moment.

"Are you serious, Allen?" he asked in disbelief.

Barry nodded.

"Please, sir," he said, "Please don't make me betray them."

Singh sighed.

"They won't get in trouble, Allen," he assured him, "They're just a bunch of kids. They're not the ones we're after. The dealer is."

"It just doesn't feel right," Barry explained, "Using them like pawns."

Singh sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"Fine," he groaned, "Don't tell me their names then."

Barry sighed in relief.

"Thank you, sir," he said sincerely.

"But I expect you to work hard to find that supplier, Allen," Singh said sternly, "You may not want to tell me their names, but you do still need to use them to find the dealer."

"Yes," Barry nodded, "Of course."

Barry smiled then.

"I actually think I might have the opportunity to identify their supplier," he said happily.

Barry shifted nervously in his seat then.

"I don't think you're going to like it, though."

Singh sighed, not liking the sound of this.

"What is it, Allen?"

Barry bit his lip and looked down at his hands.

"Um…what exactly are your thoughts on me…going to a high school party?" he asked nervously.

Singh ran a hand over his face.

"Allen," he groaned.

"I think I might figure out where they're getting the vertigo if I go," Barry said quickly, "I might even get to meet the dealer if he's there."

Singh sighed heavily.

"One of my employees…" he said, "…partying with underage high school kids…"

"This was the assignment, though, right?" Barry pointed out, "Work my way into their group? Find the supplier? I highly doubt I'm going to find their supplier while at school. A party is far more likely if I'm going to—"

"Fine," Singh said, cutting him off.

Barry blinked at him in surprise. He didn't expect the captain to agree with him.

"I may not like it," Singh said, "But you're right. You have better chances of finding the supplier if you go to the party."

Barry gave him a small smile and nodded.

"But I'm telling you now, Allen," Singh warned sternly, "If you get drunk, if you do anything stupid—stupider than partying with high schoolers—you'll have me to answer to."

Barry nodded seriously.

"Yes, sir," he said vehemently, but then he bit his lip as he thought of something else.

"What is it, Allen?" Singh asked impatiently.

"I um…I have a problem," Barry said nervously.

Singh raised his eyebrows, silently waiting for Barry to continue.

"One of the kids saw my ID," he admitted with shame.

"Are you kidding me?!" Singh asked angrily.

Barry bristled under the captain's anger.

"I'm sorry," he said, "It happened so fast, and I tried to hide it, but he saw it."

"What did you say?" Singh asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I told him it was just a fake ID," Barry said quickly, "And he didn't question it. I don't think anyone would believe that someone could actually have a name like Bartholomew."

To Barry's relief, the captain's lips twitched slightly at Barry's comment. He sighed then.

"So what's the problem then?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Barry looked down and started nervously playing with his fingers as he spoke.

"The kids, they, uh…kind of expect me to…buy alcohol for them now," he said quietly.

Singh stared at him.

"Dammit, Allen!"

"I'm sorry!" Barry said quickly, "I didn't mean for any of it to happen. It just did, and I didn't know what to say. I couldn't exactly refuse them."

Singh groaned and rubbed his temples with his fingers.

"My CSI...supplying alcohol to underage kids," he groaned, "This is a mess, Allen."

"I know," Barry said, "I'm sorry."

Singh sighed and gave Barry a serious look.

"I suppose we don't have much for options," he reasoned tiredly, "And a few high schoolers drinking alcohol is a small price to pay if it means we can get vertigo off the streets, I guess."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows, hardly believing what he was hearing.

"So…?"

"So buy them their damn alcohol," Singh said irritably, "Just make sure no one gets hurt."

Barry nodded seriously.

"Alright, sir," he said.

Singh sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Is there anything else I should know about?" he asked in exasperation.

"No, sir," Barry answered.

"Okay then," his boss said, "You're dismissed, Allen."

Barry nodded and stood up from his chair and made his way to the door.

"Oh, and Allen?" Singh said, stopping him.

Barry turned to look at him. Singh's lips twitched slightly.

"Try not to get any more detentions."


	8. Friday

**Warning: Drugs/alcohol**

 **Warning: Awkward sex ed questions—they're actually real questions I've heard, by the way!**

* * *

 **Friday**

* * *

Barry was so thankful to finally make it to Friday on that first week. Not that this whole high school operation was as terrible as he thought it was going to be, but it _was_ exhausting. It was a lot to adjust to, seeing as he had been out of high school for over seven years now.

He was surprised, though, by how quickly everything was coming back to him. Some things took more getting used to than others, though, such as raising your hand before speaking in class, or having to ask permission before going to the bathroom. He wasn't used to being treated like, well, like a teenager. He wasn't used to having fellow adults talking down to him and not fully trusting him. He thought the idea of a hall pass was just stupid. What did they think he was doing in the five minutes he took to go to the bathroom?

The mindset of this generation had also changed drastically. Things that were lame when he was in school were now considered acceptable. Smart kids weren't made fun of. In fact, many of the "popular" kids got straight A's and kids weren't made fun of for actually _trying_ in their classes. In fact, it was encouraged. Things like band and glee and student council weren't considered nerdy or dorky anymore. They were perfectly acceptable now. Barry had a hard time wrapping his mind around it. Why couldn't things have been this way when he was in school?

Technology also was a huge thing that had changed. Barry obviously felt like he was well-versed in modern technology—he hung out at STAR Labs all the time, after all—but he had never considered how that changed the social dynamics in high schools. When he was in high school, his form of messaging people was logging onto MSN messenger on a computer after school. After that, he had a simple flip-phone. It didn't have snapchat or wireless internet or any of the other stuff that phones today had.

Hell, internet in general used to take a good ten minutes just to get on thanks to dial up. These kids now days would never have to sit there drumming their fingers on their desk while listening to that obnoxious dial up sound as they waited for their computer to connect to the internet.

When he was in school, he didn't even have an iPod. He had a Discman CD player, and it wasn't exactly something one carried around with them, and after that he had an Mp3 player. Every song was a little microchip that you had to insert into the player. Not very practical.

He also didn't even have Facebook until his sophmore year of high school. Before that, you had to have a university email account just to get it. Most of high school, he had a Myspace account. He probably wouldn't have ever even gotten Facebook until college if it weren't for Iris and Becky, who both forced him to create an account his sophmore year.

One of his friends, Natalie, laughed openly at him when he admitted he didn't have Snapchat, and she forced him to download the app and showed him how to use it. Barry was still somewhat baffled by it. Why did you need to take a picture to send a message? What happened to just texting?

The fashion trends now floored Barry, too. He thought snapback hats looked absolutely ridiculous, and he didn't understand at all why they were so popular. Everyone wearing them looked like they were getting ready to shoot some cheesy rap video, and Barry didn't care at all if his goal was to blend in. He was _not_ going to where one, _ever_.

Even the way kids talked now was so different from how everyone talked when he was in school. He tried to think of all the stupid sayings and phrases that were in trend when he was a teenager. He vaguely remembered people saying things like "Yeah, boy, yeah!" and "Wazzuuuppp!" He thought with amusement to himself how these kids would react if he said things like that now. They would probably have no idea what he was talking about or what movies the sayings were from. It probably would have sounded as foreign to them as "lit" and "legit" sounded to him.

Barry definitely hadn't expected going back to school to be this much of an adjustment for him. He was still young, after all. He was in his mid-twenties, and it hadn't been _that_ long since he had been in high school. It was surprising to see just how much had changed in such a short time.

Barry would have been looking forward to the end of the school day on Friday if it hadn't been for Mr. Agnew and his stupid detention. His one day of the week that he had off from track practice, and he would have to spend the time sitting in detention instead.

Sitting in chemistry class that morning was even worse than usual because of it. Mr. Agnew had a smug grin on his face every time he looked at Barry. Barry didn't get it. He didn't see how this teacher could take so much pleasure in punishing a student. Mr. Agnew must have just really disliked him.

It was a strange feeling for Barry, being disliked by a teacher. All of his teachers had loved him when he was in school, and he had never really been on a teacher's bad side before. Yet, here was a teacher who had practically hated him right from the start.

In the middle of the lesson, Barry's phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. Barry tried to be sly about pulling it out to check it. It was a text from Cisco.

 _Meta alert: 5_ _th_ _and Broadway_

Barry had only a couple seconds to read the text before Mr. Agnew was suddenly speaking to him from the front of the classroom where he was standing.

"I'll be taking that, Mr. West," he said smugly, holding his hand out for Barry's phone.

Barry must have not been as sly about it as he thought. Mr. Agnew was clearly one of those teachers who was very vigilant about cell phone use in his class, not that Barry was surprised by that. Barry glared at him but sighed and stood up from his desk to walk to the front of the room to reluctantly hand over his phone. Mr. Agnew took it from him, a smirk on his face.

"You'll get this back at the end of the day when I see you for your detention later," he said smugly, putting the phone in his desk drawer, "Texting during school hours is prohibited. Or is that another school rule you haven't heard of?"

Barry bit his tongue to stop himself from making a snide remark in retaliation. Instead, he took Mr. Agnew by surprise by asking him a question.

"May I go to the bathroom?" he asked suddenly, "Please?"

Mr. Agnew looked a bit taken aback by the sudden question.

"Class is almost over," he said, crossing his arms, "You can wait till the bell."

"I have diarrhea," Barry blurted bluntly.

The whole class erupted into laughter and then looked at the teacher in amusement to see how he would react to _that_ excuse.

"Oh, my god, Grant," Justin laughed, wiping the corner of his eye, "That was the best. You are seriously my favorite person right now."

Barry did his best not to laugh and kept a straight face as he looked at Mr. Agnew.

"Hurry back," Mr. Agnew said seriously, reluctantly handing him a hall pass.

Pretty much everybody, including Mr. Agnew, had to know he was lying, but the teacher couldn't exactly call him on something like that. It wasn't the best excuse he had ever come up with, but Felicity was right. It worked, and his classmates seemed to at least get a kick out of it, even if it probably made Mr. Agnew hate him more.

As soon as Barry set foot outside the classroom, he flashed out of the school in an instant, heading towards STAR Labs to grab his suit before going to 5th and Broadway within a matter of seconds.

It had to be one of the most ridiculous metahumans Barry had ever fought. The man's ability was literally to create giant bubbles. Barry couldn't help but laugh when he saw it. This guy really hadn't won the lottery as far as superpowers went. Granted, it wasn't quite so funny when Barry found himself and several bystanders suddenly trapped inside the giant bubbles that the meta had created.

Thankfully, Barry eventually managed to get out of the situation by vibrating and popping the bubbles, but the whole thing took way longer than anticipated. By the time he got the metahuman safely locked away in the pipeline, he had been gone for over ten minutes.

"Great job, man," Cisco said, slapping him on the back, "You managed to catch probably the most ridiculous metahuman we've ever faced. A meta is a meta though, right?"

Barry didn't laugh. Instead, he rushed past Cisco, a serious look on his face.

"I don't have time to talk," he said urgently, "I've got to get back to work before they notice I'm gone."

By the time Barry got back to school, he had been gone for over fifteen minutes. He had missed a third of his chemistry class, and Mr. Agnew gave him a stern look when he reentered the classroom. His classmates all stared at him as he moved swiftly towards his seat, trying to control his winded breathing.

"Dude," Justin whispered across the aisle from the desk to Barry's left, "Be more obvious, why don't you."

Barry looked at him in confusion, but Justin just laughed and turned back again to face the front of the room. Barry didn't know what he really meant by that. He was still confused about it when the bell rang and he and Justin walked down the hallway to their next classes.

"Man, I seriously don't recommend blazing during _Agnew's_ class," Justin laughed as they walked.

Barry frowned at him.

"Blazing?" he asked in confusion.

Justin didn't answer, though. He just laughed and clapped Barry on the shoulder before turning down a different hallway on his way to his own class. Barry was still utterly confused, not understanding at all what Justin seemed to think he had been doing during his leave of class. He guessed he would find out once he saw Justin later in Glee.

Sex ed class was even more painful than usual to sit through today. Apparently, on Fridays was when Mr. Colback decided to open up the anonymous question box and go through all of the student's questions for the week. Some of the questions were completely ridiculous and were clearly put in there as a joke, and if they weren't, Barry didn't understand why the students hadn't just googled them. He felt like most of them were just put in the box to make the sex ed teacher sweat.

Barry actually felt kind of bad for the man because he had to actually answer all of them as if they were serious questions, seeing as you never really know just how uneducated some students might be. Barry had to fight hard not to laugh along with the rest of the class when Mr. Colback read them out loud.

 _"_ _How does sperm move?"_

 _"_ _Is it possible to make you dick bigger?"_

 _"_ _How can you tell if she's faking it?"_

 _"_ _Why is it called a blow job if there's no actual blowing involved?"_

 _"_ _Are there calories in semen?"_

 _"_ _What do guys do when they have a boner and they have to pee?"_

 _"_ _How does the Flash have sex?"_

Barry blushed furiously at the last one, especially when it sparked a whole debate amongst the class.

"Dude probably finishes in three seconds flat," Forrest said at one point, laughing hysterically, "I feel bad for his girlfriend."

Barry wanted to self-destruct on the spot. He was just happy nobody in the class actually knew that he was the Flash because at this point he felt like he was going to die of embarrassment. His discomfort with the subject eventually came to a thankful end when Mr. Colback decided to move on with the lesson. Barry didn't think he stopped blushing until the end of class, though.

When Barry walked into the Glee classroom, Justin smirked at him, a knowing look on his face. Barry walked up to him, and before he could ask him what he meant earlier, Justin spoke first.

"How ya' feeling?" he asked with a small smile.

Barry was a bit taken aback by the question.

"Fine," he said slowly, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, "Why?"

Justin shrugged and laughed.

"You've got balls, Grant," he laughed, "Even _I_ have never had the nerve to get baked at school."

"W-what?" Barry sputtered, "Is that what everyone thinks I was doing when I left class?"

"What else would you be doing for that long?" Justin laughed, "Like I said before, I wouldn't try that again during one of Agnew's classes. You're better off doing it during a different period."

Before Barry could correct Justin and tell him that he had _not_ been skipping out on class to smoke pot, the Glee instructor entered the room and told everyone to quiet down. Barry hardly heard what Mr. Lindholm was saying, though. He was too busy trying to comprehend the fact that Justin—and probably other people from his Chem class—had assumed he was skipping class to get high. Although, he _had_ implied that he had used vertigo before to Justin and his friends, so it wasn't that crazy of an assumption.

Barry thought maybe it wasn't something he should refute. It probably would make them trust him more and help him figure out more about vertigo in the long run. Still, the idea of being called a pothead didn't exactly sit well with Barry, even if it was "Grant's" reputation that it affected and not his. He supposed it was a part of the assignment, though, so he'd just have to deal with it.

After finishing the practice for their glee routine, Barry was grabbing his books and getting ready to leave the classroom when he was stopped by someone, a girl in the glee group whom he had never talked to before.

"Great job today, Grant," she said, smiling at him, "You're really starting to get the routine down, and it's only your first week. I'm sure you're going to do great at sectionals."

"Thanks," Barry said, smiling at her.

"I actually was wondering…" she said awkwardly, looking down at the floor.

Barry's heart picked up a little. Oh, God, was she going to ask him out or something? There was some girl's choice dance coming up where the girls had to ask the guys to go with them. He hoped to God that that wasn't what this was about. What was he supposed to say if it was?!

"I was wondering if you've started working on your senior video project yet," she finally said.

Barry nearly sighed in relief.

"No," he said, feeling the tension leave his shoulders, "No, I haven't even thought about it yet."

He had barely given the project any thought. He had all but forgotten about it actually. All seniors had to put together some kind of music video as a part of their senior projects. Barry didn't have a clue what he was going to do for his.

"I was wondering if you wanted to do the project with me," the girl asked, "We're allowed to team up and do duet videos if we want to, and I thought you'd make a good partner."

She blushed slightly, but she smiled at him as she waited for his answer.

"Sure," Barry found himself saying, "Why not? It might be easier to do it with someone else instead of by myself."

It was true. Having someone else to do it with would probably be a lot easier for him than coming up with a whole music video by himself.

"Great," she said, smiling as she grabbed up her stuff so she could leave the classroom, "We'll have to get together sometime to work on it. I'll talk to you later then, Grant."

She started walking towards the door but then suddenly turned around to face him again.

"Oh," she said, looking back at him, "I'm Santana by the way."

* * *

When Barry walked into the lunch room, his friends all laughed as he sat down at their table.

"Dude," Forrest said, slapping his arm, "Next time you have a tea party during class, let me know. I'll ditch with you."

Barry just laughed nervously. He had decided not to deny it, not only because it might help them trust him to be "cool" with the whole vertigo thing, but also because he really didn't have any other excuse as to why he had left class for so long.

"Is the whole school talking about it or something?" he asked uncomfortably.

Forrest shook his head.

"Hardly," he said, "A lot of people do it. People don't really care if you want to get a slight buzz during school. I don't blame you, having Agnew as a teacher and all."

Barry was surprised. He thought in a smaller school something like that would have been a big deal. People probably would have talked more about it when he was in school. Were so many kids doing drugs in this city that no one thought anything of it when a fellow student supposedly got high in the middle of a school day?

It must really have not been a big deal to them after all because a moment later they changed the subject of conversation, not giving his supposed drug-related escapades any further thought.

"You're going to the party tomorrow, right?" Michael asked him, "No other plans?"

"I can go," Barry told him, smiling.

"Isn't your foster dad a cop or something, though?" Justin asked, "He's cool with you going out?"

Barry had to hold back a laugh. Joe had never been cool with him or Iris going out when he was in high school. They hadn't been crazy party animals or anything, but they had gone out a few times every now and then. He always had to either pick the lock for them or hack into the house security system just so he and Iris could sneak out. They were good kids for the most part, but they had given Joe their fair share of grief over the years.

"He's going out of town this weekend," Barry told them, "Some sort of mandatory law enforcement seminar."

It was actually true, too. Every year, everyone on the force was required to go through a sensitivity training seminar, Barry included. The captain had actually arranged for him to get out of it so he could go to his party. Barry never thought in a million years there'd come a day when the captain would be pulling strings to get him out a mandatory training seminar so he could party with a bunch of underage teenagers, but that just went to show that you never know where you're going to end up.

"Awesome," Michael said, "It should be fun."

"Oh," Forrest said suddenly, digging into his pocket and pulling out a sheet of paper, "This is the booze we need you to get with your fake."

He handed Barry the paper. Barry unfolded it, his eyes widening slightly when he looked at it. He had assumed he'd be getting a couple packs of beer and maybe some bottles of cheap vodka or something. There was a hell of a lot more on the list than he had anticipated.

"Don't worry," Forrest laughed when he saw Barry's face, "We'll reimburse you for it. We're all pitching in."

"Oh," Barry said, laughing nervously, "Okay, great."

The money wasn't what concerned him. What concerned him was the amount of alcohol he was going to be supplying them. He had the captain's okay with it, but that didn't exactly make Barry comfortable with all of this. Supplying alcohol to high schoolers was something he wouldn't normally do. It just felt so wrong to him.

"So does this mean your parents changed their minds?" Justin asked Forrest in confusion, "They're letting you have the party after all?"

"No," Forrest laughed, "They still are forbidding me to have it."

"Why'd they forbid it in the first place?" Michael asked him, "I thought they were cool with it at first?"

"Yeah, well they caught me watering down their whiskey with iced tea," Forrest said with a shrug, "It pissed them off enough that they decided not to let me have the party. I figured we could have it somewhere else, though."

"Well, we're not having it at my place again," Micheal said, shaking his head, "My house is way too small."

"And you know my parents," Justin said then, "They'd kill me if I tried to pull something like that."

They all looked at Barry then. Barry's eyes widened in surprise.

"We can't have it at _my_ house," he said, laughing and shaking his head, "My foster dad's a cop, remember?"

"Yeah, but you just said he'd be out of town," Forrest said with a smirk.

Barry shook his head, though.

"No way," he said, "I'm sorry, guys, but we can't have it at my place. Joe would kill me if he found out."

"So just make sure he doesn't find out then," Justin said simply.

"Come on, man," Michael said, "If we don't have it at your place, the party's not happening."

They all gave him pleading looks.

"Come on, Grant," Forrest begged, "There will be girls and weed and vertigo. It'll be awesome!"

Barry sighed. If he hadn't mentioned vertigo, there's no way he would ever be considering this.

"Fine," he sighed in defeat.

"Yes!" Justin said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Dude, you're the best!"

"It's not too many people though, right?" Barry asked, "You said before that half the school was going. My house can't fit that many people."

"We'll keep it as just our close friends," Forrest assured him, "Nothing to worry about, Grant."

Barry gave him a small smile then.

"Alright then," he sighed, "Party at my place this weekend."


	9. Party at Grant's

**Warning: Drugs/Alcohol**

 **Warning: Underage**

 **It is not my intention to glorify partying with this fic. Real life isn't really like this.**

* * *

 **Party at Grant's**

* * *

Barry sighed heavily as he was checking out at the discount liquor store. His subtotal was over five-hundred dollars! He may be an adult and have an adult job, but he couldn't help but think to himself that these kids had better damn well pay him back for this. He couldn't believe how much they intended to spend on alcohol. Seriously? _Two_ kegs? Seriously?! Kegs alone cost over a hundred bucks each. Not to mention all the liquor they were having him get.

It definitely was not Smirnoff or Fleischman's any other cheap brand of vodka Barry had been thinking they'd request. They had him buying Grey Goose and Bombay Sapphire and other top-shelf brands of different types of liquors he hadn't been expecting.

However, Barry did pick up on the fact that these kids were loaded—or at least, their parents were. Michael seemed to come from more humble upbringings, but Forrest and Justin seemed to come from more privileged families. Barry didn't doubt they had more than enough money to spend on alcohol and vertigo and whatever else they wanted.

Barry tried not to laugh when the cashier asked him for his ID. He still got carded all the time at his age thanks to his young face, but he had never been buying _this_ much alcohol. It was strange. As he handed over his ID, he really did feel like a teenager trying to get away with something he shouldn't. He probably only had that feeling, though, because he was pretending to be a seventeen-year-old most of the time now and also because he really did feel so wrong about what he was doing. He just hoped everyone stayed safe at this party. They were in good hands, though. Barry had always been very responsible, even when he was younger, and he was the Flash after all. These kids couldn't be in better hands than Central City's very own superhero.

Barry decided not to mention the party to Joe. He didn't think he'd take it well. Sure, the vertigo case was also Joe's assignment, too, but going undercover for it was Barry's, and Joe probably wouldn't have been willing to offer up his house to a bunch of teenagers to crack the case. He cared about his job, but he didn't care _that_ much. He was an underpaid cop after all, and letting a bunch of millennials party in his house wasn't part of his job description.

Barry actually had never thrown a party in high school. He had been to a few over the years, but he had never _thrown_ one. He and Iris had talked about doing it once or twice in high school, but both of them had been too afraid to face Joe's wrath should they have gotten caught for it. They had both known that he was bound to find out about it, one way or another. He was a detective after all. Lying to him had always been next to impossible. The man was a human lie-detector for a dad.

As an adult, Barry now felt a little more confident that Joe wouldn't find out about it. He was a much better liar now—not that that was something to be proud of—but being the Flash and now being undercover, Barry had developed very advanced skills in the very complicated art that was lying and deceit. As someone who analyzed crime scenes for a living, Barry was pretty confident he would be able to erase all evidence of the party before Joe got home. His job had given him excellent attention to detail, and his speed would allow him to clean up in time.

Joe wouldn't be back from his seminar until the afternoon the next day, and Iris was spending the night at Eddie's apartment. Barry didn't really know when she would be back the next day, but if she ended up finding out, he trusted her not to narc on him to her father. They had always been pretty good about not tattling on each other, not counting the one time that Iris had ratted him out for going out with Becky Cooper when he was supposed to be grounded. He still didn't really know why Iris had done it, but it didn't matter. He had long since forgiven her for it, and he trusted her to keep his secrets now.

Barry made sure there was nothing in the house that could possibly give away his identity. He took down his graduation picture that was on display on one of the end tables in their living room as well as the photo of him and Joe that had been taken his first day at the CCPD. Sadly, he also hid the photos of his mother that he had in his room. He didn't think anyone would recognize her anyways, but he had to be safe. The Nora Allen case had been big in the media when it first happened, but most of these kids had been around the age of three or four at the time. Still, he couldn't take any chances.

He was nervous about the whole thing. He had never thrown a party before, and he wasn't sure if he knew how to. The others had made it sound more like a small get-together, though. They said only their closest friends would be coming and Barry wouldn't have to worry about a huge crowd.

It was just a small get-together between friends.

* * *

Barry was fucked. He was completely and utterly fucked.

He ran his hands through his hair in anguish as he looked around the house full of people, at the small get-together that had somehow turned into a full blown party, music blaring, people dancing and spilling beer all over Joe's couch cushions. And yet _more_ people were filtering in through the front door!

As he walked through the crowd of people in the living room, Barry hardly recognized a single person. They definitely weren't all from East Central High.

"Grant!" Forrest shouted when he ran into Barry, "This is the best party ever!"

"I thought you said it would be just your closest friends," Barry said loudly over the music.

Forrest shrugged.

"I have a lot of friends," he said simply before walking off to fill up his cup from the keg.

Barry groaned as he looked around him. Teenagers were dancing and drinking everywhere he looked. The small house was completely packed. Barry didn't think there had ever been this many people in this house before, and more were still filtering in!

Joe was going to kill him. There was no way he'd be able to hide this from him, no way that he'd ever be able to get the smell of spilt beer out of the carpet. Barry turned and saw a couple guys tossing a glass vase back and forth.

"Hey!" he shouted at them, moving forward to stop them, but too late.

The vase fell to the floor, and Barry heard the quiet tinkling of glass over the sound of the music, which was way too loud! The neighbors were probably going to hate them.

Barry sank down onto the couch, trying to figure out how he was going to face Joe tomorrow. It wasn't even that late yet, and the party seemed like it was already getting out of hand. Kids were dancing and shouting, clearly already drunk, even though it was only ten-thirty. Barry was already overwhelmed by what was going on in _his_ house.

Suddenly, a scrawny, blonde kid plopped down on the couch next to him, clutching his stomach. Barry eyed him wearily. The kid was clearly drunk already, drunk off of the alcohol _he_ had bought for them. Barry didn't like this at all.

"Dude," the kid groaned, "I think I'm gonna hurl."

Barry's eyes widened as the kid sucked in a breath, bracing himself for the vomit rising in his throat. In an instant, Barry flashed to the kitchen, careful not to run too fast to avoid creating a streak of lightning but also moving fast enough that no one could see him. He returned within a second with a large mixing bowl and quickly pressed it into the kid's hands just in time for him to throw up into it.

"Thanks," the kid groaned, clutching the bowl, too drunk to have noticed anything peculiar.

Barry just nodded and patted him on the back.

"Just take it easy," he said gently, "Sip on some water, and don't drink any more."

The kid nodded weakly, and Barry stood up to walk over to the kitchen.

Liabilities aside, Barry was glad to see that everyone at least seemed to be having fun. He actually felt kind of silly about worrying about that in the first place. Of course they were having fun. They were a bunch of high school kids. All you needed was loud music and a bunch of free alcohol, and they'd have the time of their lives.

Before Barry could reach the kitchen, he was suddenly knocked off course by having somebody stumble into him. He grabbed the girl's arm to steady her before she could fall.

"Thanks," she slurred drunkenly when he righted her.

She giggled then when she looked at his face.

"You're Grant, right?" she asked, still holding onto his arm, "Great party."

"Thanks," Barry sighed.

She still wouldn't let go of his arm. Barry didn't pull it away, though. She seemed like she needed the support.

"I'm Jessica," she slurred, giggling as she leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear.

"You know," she whispered, the smell of alcohol on her breath overwhelming him a bit, "My friends and I have a little bet going."

Barry raised his eyebrows.

"And what bet is that?" he asked curiously.

She giggled softly to herself, taking a moment to regain in her composure.

"We're betting on which one of us will be able to hook up with the hottest guy in school."

Barry stared at her for a moment.

"Oh," he said awkwardly, letting go of her arm, "Good luck with that, I guess."

She giggled hysterically, clutching his bicep.

"It's _you_ , silly," she giggled, pushing him playfully, "The tall and oh-so-mysterious new guy."

Barry blushed as he raised his eyebrows.

"Soo, Geee-rant," she slurred goofily, leaning closer to him and putting a hand on his chest, "Care to give me a tour of the house? I haven't seen the bedroom yet."

She bit her lip, and then slid her hand down his chest and over his stomach, going dangerously low.

"Woah!" Barry nearly yelled, backing away from her and putting his hands in the air.

She was probably only sixteen or seventeen at most, and he was twenty-five. Barry felt like he was going to be sick just by that thought alone.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hiccupping as she leaned up against him again, "I just want to welcome you to our school."

Barry gently nudged her off him again.

"I'm sorry," he said, "You're very pretty, but my friends are probably going to be wondering where I am. I should stay down here where the party is."

She sighed heavily.

"Why are all the cute ones so hard to get?" she asked herself, hiccupping slightly, "Well, if you change your mind, be sure to find me."

She winked at him before walking away.

Barry stared at her as she left, hardly believing what had just happened. Of all the obstacles he had anticipated with this assignment, having drunk high school girls throwing themselves at him hadn't been one of them. He hadn't exactly been a girl magnet in high school. He had had just two girlfriends in high school, and neither of those relationships had lasted very long. Both of them had ended in disaster actually, mostly thanks to Iris.

When he originally took on this assignment, the last of his worries had been that high school girls would find him attractive. It was something Barry hadn't been expecting at all, and now he didn't know what to do about it. That kind of thing could get him _arrested_ if he wasn't careful.

He didn't have long to ponder the whole thing because a moment later, Justin was grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the living room.

"Dude, was that Jessica Namus all over you just now?" he asked incredulously.

Barry shrugged, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh my God!" Justin said, slapping his arm, "Dude, why didn't you take her upstairs with you?! She was clearly DTF!"

Barry blushed and looked at the floor.

"I um…" he stuttered, "I just got out of a bad relationship at my old school. I'm not quite up for that yet."

Justin laughed incredulously.

"You just said _no_ to _Jessica Namus_!" he said in disbelief, "You are officially my idol now, man."

He smacked Barry on the shoulder and laughed.

Barry laughed nervously in return, still feeling very uncomfortable about the whole thing.

"Dude!" Forrest said, coming up from behind Barry and grabbing his shoulder, "Let's go upstairs. I got us some V!"

"W-what?" Barry asked.

"Yes!" Justin laughed excitedly, grabbing Barry's arm and pulling him along with them.

"You mean vertigo?" Barry asked as they climbed up the stairs, "I thought you said your dealer was coming _here_."

"I met up with him before the party instead," Forrest said simply as they made it to the top of the stairs.

Well, that ruined all of Barry's plans for the night. The whole point of this party was so that he could meet their vertigo dealer, and now that didn't seem like it was going to happen. It felt like this whole party mess was for nothing now.

Once they were upstairs, Forrest quickly opened the first door he came across, which happened to be the door to Iris's room. Barry was just about to tell them to go to his room instead when he suddenly heard a small shriek come from inside the room. He got just a small glimpse of a guy and a girl poking their heads out from under Iris's sheets before Forrest closed the door.

"Whoops," he laughed, "Looks like that room's occupied."

Barry was so dead. He knew Iris would be cool with him throwing a party, but allowing a couple of drunk teenagers to hook up in her bed?! He hoped to God Iris would never find out about _that._ He'd have to wash her sheets for her in the morning. She never had to know.

Joe's bedroom wasn't much better, though. When Justin opened the door it was to find a group of people already sitting in there, a cloud of smoke enveloping the whole room.

"Ugh," Barry groaned, "It smells like skunk in here!"

Forrest and Justin both laughed.

"That's just weed, Grant," Justin snickered, "I thought you said you had smoked before."

Barry let out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah," he said quickly, "I just smoke stuff that smells better than this."

Forrest laughed and clapped Barry on the shoulder.

"Come on," he said, "It's too crowded in here."

They left the room full of stoners and made their way to Barry's room then, Barry trying hard not to think about what he was going to do when Joe got home and found that his bedroom smelt like marijuana.

When they opened the door to Barry's room they found the room to be mostly empty. There was only one person in there, a drunk girl who was currently passed out on Barry's bed.

"Figures," Justin laughed when he looked at her, "Jackie Dombrowski. She does this at every party. She was probably waiting for you."

He winked at Barry, causing him to blush. To his surprise, Forrest and Justin both entered the room anyways, both sitting on the edge of Barry's bed next to the drunk girl, ignoring her entirely. Barry hesitantly moved to sit in his chair by his desk across from them.

"Wow," Justin said, looking around the room, "You really _are_ a science nerd, aren't you?"

Barry hadn't thought anything of it when he was cleaning his room and didn't take down his NASA posters. He had been more concerned with getting rid of his CSI stuff than anything else. He hadn't thought twice about the rest of his nerdy memorabilia as he was preparing for the party.

"Oh," Barry stuttered, looking around the room, "Well…I…"

"Relax, man," Justin said, "I'm a total nerd, too. I'm in glee, remember?"

Barry laughed lightly at that.

"And I'm actually a major Star Wars geek," Forrest laughed, "They're actually really good movies if you give them a chance."

Barry laughed harder at that. He hadn't expected that from Forrest of all people.

The door to the room suddenly opened then, and Michael came storming in.

"You assholes!' he said irritably, taking a seat on the floor close to where Barry was sitting, "You were going to do the V without me?"

Forrest just laughed.

"Well, if you weren't so busy talking up Melanie Stelner, maybe I would have invited you."

Michael rolled his eyes, but he laughed nonetheless.

Forrest then reached into the small bag he had with him and pulled out a few vials of a yellowish-colored substance. He set them on the bed and Barry tried not to stare, tried to look cool, as if this wasn't all new to him as Forrest then pulled out a bunch of syringes.

"Don't worry," he said to Barry, "We don't share needles. We're not stupid."

Barry laughed nervously as he watched Forrest draw up some of the yellow liquid. He was trying hard to hide his shock. He knew the kids did vertigo, but talking about it and seeing it were two very different things. As soon as the syringes came in sight, Barry struggled to swallow back his shock. This kids were hardcore.

"Grant first," Forrest said, holding out the syringe to Barry, "So we know you're cool."

Barry's eyes widened. He hadn't expected to be thrown into this situation like this. Well, maybe he had. Of course it was always going to eventually come to this, but he didn't really know what he was supposed to do now. He knew vertigo wouldn't affect him with his metabolism, but they didn't know that, and Singh sure as hell didn't. If it ever got back to his boss that Barry had been shooting up vertigo while undercover, Barry didn't know how he'd react. This had to be way overstepping the boundaries of what he was allowed to do undercover.

Barry shakily reached out and took the syringe from Forrest. He had never done something like this before, had never been pressured like this. Sure, he had been pressured into trying a cigarette once when he was in high school, and there was the one time someone had offered him a joint in college and he had politely declined, but he had never had someone hand him a syringe before, fully expecting him to inject himself with the substance it contained.

This was peer pressure at its finest.

Barry stared at the syringe in his hands, not sure what he should do to get out of this. He definitely wasn't going to go through with it, but he didn't know what excuse to use to get him out of it. He had told them he was eager to take vertigo, had implied that he had taken it before and was looking for a hookup. If he didn't follow through now, they would be doubtful of him. Barry struggled to think of an excuse to get him out of this situation, but thankfully, he was relieved from it a moment later when the music downstairs suddenly stopped and he heard shouting coming from below them.

"What's going on?" Michael asked worriedly, looking around at the others.

No one responded, though. Instead, Forrest quickly shoved everything back into his bag, and they all quickly stood up to leave the room, leaving Jackie Dombrowski still passed out on Barry's bed where they had found her.

When they got downstairs, it was to find everybody freaking out. People were scrambling around, finding their friends in the crowd and yelling over each other in panic. Barry's blood ran cold. Had somebody gotten hurt? If so, he was responsible for it. He was the adult here. Anything bad that happened would be on him.

No one was hurt, though. A moment later, Barry heard a girl shriek that the cops were at the door. Barry sighed in relief. He thought something terrible had happened. He tensed up again fairly quickly, though. This _was_ terrible. The cops were at the door, at _Barry's_ front door, busting _his_ underage party! No one else on the force knew that he was undercover. How was he going to explain this to them? How was he going to maintain his cover when they came into the house and without fail recognized him?

Barry smirked then as a thought occurred to him. They weren't coming in the house tonight.

"Everyone shut up!" he yelled over the panicking teenagers.

Everyone stopped freaking out and looked at him. The red and blue lights of the cop cars outside were still filtering in through the window, illuminating the faces of the terrified, underage high schoolers crowding Barry's house.

"Nobody panic," Barry said calmly, "They're not going to catch anyone. No one's going to get an underage tonight, so everyone just calm down."

They all looked at him in confusion, some of them whispering to each other, others looking like they still had the urge to bolt while they still could.

"They can't come inside without a warrant," Barry explained confidently to them, ignoring the pounding on the door, "If we don't open the door, they can't come in. It's nearly midnight. No officer is going to wake up a judge in the middle of the night to get a warrant. Their hands are tied. As long as we don't open the door and don't try to flee, there's nothing they can do."

A lot of them looked assured at Barry's words. Others still looked skeptical, but they listened to him anyways. No one tried to run, which was good. Anyone who tried to make a run for it out the back door would probably end up getting busted by a waiting cop car on the neighboring street behind the house. They were safe as long as they stayed put and no one opened the door.

More pounding came from the front door, though. Barry didn't know which officer was outside, but it didn't matter. Whoever it was, he couldn't let them see him. Most of his coworkers didn't even know that this was his and Joe's residence. To them, it was probably just some random house that they had most likely gotten a noise complaint for.

"They're not leaving," one girl said nervously when the knocking continued.

Barry sighed and made his way over to the window. He had expected them to leave by now. Most officers would have. They didn't get paid enough to stand outside, knocking on a door all night over a simple noise complaint. Whoever it was, they were persistent.

Barry sucked in a breath when he sneakily looked out the window and saw who was standing outside.

It was _Eddie_.


	10. Harvard

**Once again, I'm not condoning underage drinking with this story. Parties in real life are usually pretty lame in comparison to what's in this story. Please drink responsibly.**

* * *

 **Harvard**

* * *

Detective Eddie Thawne was currently outside, knocking on his door. Barry couldn't believe his bad luck. _Eddie_ , of all people!

That explained why he hadn't left yet. He knew whose house this was, and he was probably more determined than any other random officer would have been to find out what was going on inside.

"What do we do?" Michael asked worriedly, "They don't seem like they're going to leave."

Barry sighed and rubbed his eyes. There was only one thing he could think to do.

"I'll go talk to them," he said determinedly.

"What?!" Justin asked, "Are you nuts?! You just said not to let them in!"

"I won't let them in," Barry assured everyone, who were all staring at him, "I'll step outside and talk to them, get them to leave."

" _How_?!" the girl from before, Jessica, asked him.

"I'm pretty good at talking my way out of things," Barry said vaguely, "Trust me. I'll get them to leave us alone. Everything will be fine."

Barry moved towards the door then, and no one stopped him. It was hard to argue with someone who seemed so confident. They didn't know how Barry was going to simply talk his way out of this, but they decided to trust him, and no one stopped him from slipping out the front door.

Eddie's eyes widened when Barry opened the front door and quickly stepped outside, shutting the door tightly behind him.

"Barry," he said in surprise, "What's going on?"

"Shh!" Barry said, grabbing Eddie's arm and pulling him away from the front door just in case anyone was listening.

He pulled the young detective down the front steps until they were both standing on the sidewalk in front of the house, next to Eddie's cop car, safely away from prying ears. Out of the corner of his eye, Barry could see a bunch of kids watching from the front window. He wished they wouldn't. Eddie had no doubt seen them in the window, and now he would definitely be wondering why Barry's house was full of teenagers.

"I thought a bunch of kids had broken into your house or something," Eddie said seriously, "Why are you even home? I thought you'd be at that sensitivity training seminar with Joe this weekend."

"Plans changed," Barry answered shortly, "Why are _you_ here, Eddie? Why aren't _you_ at the seminar?"

"I already took care of my annual seminar for this year," Eddie said, crossing his arms, "I got stuck on the night shift tonight, and I'm here answering a call about a noise complaint. Care to tell me why you have a house full of drunk teenagers, Barry?"

"Who says they're drunk?" Barry said lightly.

Eddie sighed.

"I highly doubt you guys are drinking apple juice in there," he challenged.

He gave Barry a disbelieving look, putting his hands out in a questioning gesture.

"What the hell, Barry?" he asked incredulously, "What are you doing partying with a bunch of _high schoolers_?"

Barry sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"Eddie, I don't have time to explain the whole thing to you right now," he groaned, "If you want details, ask the captain. He'll explain it to you if he wants to. It's not my place to give details about it without consulting the captain first."

"The _captain_ knows about this?!" Eddie asked in disbelief, "He's _condoning_ this?!"

Barry nodded.

"Yes," he said simply, "Long story short, I need you to trust me and let it go. Don't bust the party."

Eddie goggled at Barry.

"You want me to just ignore this?" he asked incredulously, "Just let it go?"

"Please, Eddie," Barry said earnestly, "I need you to trust me. You know me. You know I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't have good reason to."

Eddie sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"You're lucky I'm with Iris, Barry," he said seriously, "Because if I wasn't, I don't think I could let this slide, even for you."

"So you'll drop it?" Barry asked him seriously.

Eddie nodded hesitantly, glancing back at the house again.

" _For now_ ," he said seriously, "I expect a damn good explanation later, though."

Barry smiled at him.

"Thanks, Eddie," he said gratefully, "I really appreciate it."

Eddie sighed and nodded.

Barry was struck by a sudden thought then.

"Hang on," he said seriously, "If you're on night duty, then where is Iris? I thought she was spending the night at your place tonight."

Eddie's eyes widened and he suddenly smacked himself on the forehead.

"Oh my God," he groaned, "I forgot about that. I'm going to have to call her asap. She's probably sitting at my apartment waiting for me. She's going to be so pissed."

Barry laughed lightly.

"Good luck dealing with _that_ ," he chuckled, "Iris's wrath is a force to be reckoned with."

Eddie pulled out his phone and started walking back to his cruiser, an anxious look on his face. He paused before opening the car door, though, glancing up at the house and then Barry one last time.

"I expect an explanation," he said seriously again.

Barry nodded, and then Eddie reluctantly got back into his vehicle, starting the engine up again and pulling away. Barry let out a breath of relief. He turned around then and looked back at the window. Everyone was still watching him nervously through it. Barry smiled at them and gave them a thumbs up. Their faces all broke out into grins.

When he reentered the house, they all swarmed him, slapping him on the back and shouting words of impressed praise.

"What the hell did you say to him?!"

"He didn't even breathalyze you!"

"I can't believe you didn't get an underage just now!"

Barry just laughed, and shook his head at them.

"I told you I was good at talking my way out of things," he laughed.

"Dude, you never cease to impress me," Michael laughed, shaking his head.

"So what do you say?" Forrest said quietly then, stepping up to him, "Ready for some vertigo now?"

"Oh…um…"

Barry shifted uncomfortably where he stood as everybody else went back to their fun, the music starting up again.

"Actually," he said, his eyes landing on the table in the corner of the room, "I was thinking of joining in a couple games of beer pong first. I never play very good after doing V."

Forrest laughed.

"Alright," he said, accepting the excuse, to Barry's immense relief, "I'm up for a game!"

"Same," Justin said, then leading the way to the game table.

They weren't playing beer pong, though, at least not any version of beer pong Barry had ever seen before, not that he had ever played it much. Just a couple games throughout college.

"What game is this?" Barry asked, watching the group of teenagers play as they waited to join in the next round.

"Harvard," Forrest said, shrugging, "At least that's what we call it here. It has different names in different places."

Barry watched the game carefully, trying to get a feel for how it worked. It looked like it was a mixture of beer pong and flip cup. As soon as a player's ball made it into a cup, a round of flip cup would start. If the team that got the ball in the cup won, the cup was removed. If the other team won, they got to keep their cup. It was a game Barry had never seen before, but he had to say, it actually looked sort of fun.

"Alright, we got next game!" Forrest called as the last game came to an end.

Barry was a little nervous as he stepped up to the table. He wasn't sure if he'd be any good at this. His Flash powers wouldn't help that much. Sure, he could easily defend his cups using his speed, seeing as the ball was moving in slow motion for him, but you were only allowed to block the ball if the person bounced it, which most people didn't do. As for the flip cup part of it, Barry had no clue if he'd be good at it. The drinking part of it would be easy for him—he could slam back his cup in a second—but the actual flipping part would take some skill.

Singh hadn't told him he couldn't drink. He just said Barry couldn't get _drunk_. It went unspoken between them, but Barry figured he and Singh both knew he wouldn't be able to go the whole night without drinking without also raising questions. He would have to drink at least a little so that he would blend in. As for getting drunk, that was something Barry didn't even have to worry about. Really, he could drink as much as he wanted.

There were ten players total, five on each team. Most of them were guys playing, but there were two girls also playing with them, one of them being their friend, Natalie, who ate lunch with them every day and who was also in glee club. Barry didn't know the other girl who was playing, though. He, Forrest, Justin, Michael, and Natalie were all on one team, and a bunch of other kids Barry didn't know were on the other.

"Wait!" Forrest said before the game started, "House rules first!"

The others all laughed.

"Troll rule?" Justin asked with a smirk.

Forrest nodded and rolled his eyes.

" _Of course_ ," he said, "It isn't a game without the troll rule."

Barry didn't say anything because he didn't want to sound stupid, but he had absolutely no idea what "troll rule" meant.

They mentioned several other rules Barry had never heard of before. All throughout college, Barry had never played a game of beer pong or any other table game where so many additional rules were added on. He just hoped he wouldn't accidentally break one of them out of ignorance.

Barry picked up on most of it once they started playing, though. Really, the game wasn't as complicated as he thought it would be, and he learned it fairly quickly. He wasn't that bad even, once he got the hang of it.

Halfway through the game, Barry found out what the "Headhunter Rule" was. His opponent across from him threw an airball that didn't touch any cups or the table. Rather than letting the ball bounce away, Barry snatched it out of the air easily, before it could even touch the floor. He was confused when all of his teammates started screaming at him, and at first he thought he had broken a rule.

He hadn't, though. Apparently, the Headhunter Rule meant that if you catch an airball before it hits the floor, you get to chuck it at your opponent's head, and if you succeed in hitting them, you get to have a cup taken away. Upon figuring this out, Barry speedily whipped the ball at the guy across from him—Derick?—and the ball struck him square in the forehead before he even knew what happened. It was just a little ping pong ball, but it was enough to leave a slight red mark in the center of the kid's forehead.

Barry's team roared with laughter and applause as a cup was taken away as a result. After knowing that rule, Barry ended up catching three more air balls throughout the game, his speed and bittersweet sobriety making it extremely easy for him, and by the end of the game, everyone on his team was calling him "the headhunter."

Barry thought the rules they had all created were both ridiculous and hilarious at the same time. Apparently, if two people on the same team throw two air balls in a row, they had to kiss. Barry was just glad he managed not to throw any air balls throughout the game.

He found out what the troll rule was at the end of the game. One kid on the other team apparently had gone the entire game without even hitting a cup, making him the "troll." It basically meant that he had to crawl under the table and stay there for the entire next game. Barry didn't see the point in the rule, but he had to admit, it _was_ kind of funny, especially since the troll's job was to grab people's legs and try to get them to mess up throughout the following game.

As ridiculous as he saw all of this, Barry had to hand it to them; these kids really had found ways to make things more interesting. He had never played a game of beer pong or flip cup quite like this.

By the time they were done playing Harvard and Barry walked around to check on the rest of the party, he realized just how crazy things were starting to get. He had been to parties before, but never one like this. This was the closest thing to a party that you saw in a movie or on TV as it got, minus the giant pool and overly-ostentatious borderline mansion of a house. Kids in one corner of the room were doing body shots off of each other, people were dancing up on top of the furniture, and in the corner where the keg was, people were doing keg stands.

"Time for a keg stand, I think," Michael said, nudging Barry when he saw where he was looking.

"I'm not doing _that_ ," Barry laughed as he watched one guy climb over the keg, two other guys holding up his legs as he drank upside down from the keg while everyone counted and cheered.

"You _have_ to, though," Justin said seriously, "You're the party host. The host always has to do a keg stand."

"Is that another rule?" Barry laughed.

"No," Forrest said, "It's East Central tradition. It's more than a rule. It's law."

Barry chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm good," he said, "I've had plenty to drink already."

"Seriously?" Michael said, "The only time I saw you drink tonight was just now when we were playing Harvard. Overall, you've probably only had like two or three beers total."

"Isn't that plenty?" Barry asked, shaking his head.

The other three all looked at each other.

"You're joking, right?" Forrest asked him.

Justin laughed and placed his hands on Barry's shoulders, pushing him towards the keg.

"Come on," he laughed, "You're doing this whether you want to or not."

* * *

Iris was pissed. She was _beyond_ pissed. Eddie had seriously forgotten she was supposed to be spending the night at his place tonight?! Seriously?!

On the phone, he had told her that she could spend the night there anyways, but he wouldn't be home until after six AM. Iris was _not_ going to be some needy, lonely girlfriend hanging out by herself at her boyfriend's apartment all night. She would just go back to her own house then, maybe watch a movie with Barry or something.

Although, it was almost one AM now, and Barry was probably in bed by now. Or maybe not. Eddie mentioned he had had some sort of awkward run-in with Barry that evening, but he didn't say what it was about. Iris was too upset with Eddie to press for details at the time. She ended up hanging up on him before he could say more on the subject. She could always just ask Barry about it when she got home. That is, if he was still awake.

As soon as Iris pulled up to her house, she knew right away that Barry was definitely still awake. She could hear the music coming from the house practically from down the street, and judging by all the cars lined up on the street outside the house, Barry had more than a few people over. Then it struck her.

Barry was having a _party_!

More than that, Barry was having a party, and he hadn't even told her about it! Now she had more than one person to be mad at tonight.

Iris stormed up the front steps to the house and opened the front door. She was shocked when she entered. This was more than just a little party. It was insane! Their house was packed with teenagers. Some of them were passed out on the couch and the floor already, and some of them were making out with each other. A lot of them were dancing and spilling beer everywhere, while "Turn Down for What" was blaring noisily throughout the whole house.

The house was going to be _trashed_. Barry was so dead. Where _was_ Barry even? She walked through the house, but she didn't see him anywhere. Most of the people at the party were all rounded up near one corner of the room where one guy was doing a keg stand. Iris pushed her way through the crowd, looking for Barry.

Oh. My. God.

 _Barry Allen_ was doing a keg stand! He was upside down over the keg, two other guys holding his legs while he drank from the nozzle. Everyone was cheering him on and shouting out as they counted his stand.

"142!"

"143!"

" _144_!"

Iris couldn't believe her eyes. After goggling at the scene in front of her for a moment, Iris laughed hysterically and quickly whipped out her phone, taking a video of it. No one would ever believe that she had seen Barry do this unless she had video evidence to prove it.

" _152_!" everyone shouted in disbelief.

At that, Barry finally signaled he was done, and the people holding his legs up eased him down so that he was standing again. Everyone cheered so loud Iris almost had to cover her ears.

Iris started walking up to where Barry was standing and grinning, but someone else was talking to him.

"Dude!" the kid yelled, "You just annihilated the school record!"

"What was the record?" Barry asked, wiping his mouth and laughing.

"91," the kid answered incredulously, "And that was from _two years_ ago. Plus the guy who did it projectile vomited everywhere afterward. After that eating contest the other day and now this, it's official. You have the strongest stomach I've ever seen!"

"Grant," another kid laughed, "You're going to go down as a headhunting, keg standing legend."

Barry laughed, and Iris couldn't help but be surprised. She hadn't heard _that_ laugh come from Barry in a while. These kids were bringing out a whole other side of him.

"Hey, _Grant_ ," Iris said, finally going up to Barry and tapping him on the shoulder.

Barry was still laughing lightly as he turned around to look at her. The smile slid from his face so fast when he saw her, it was almost comical.

"I-Iris," he said in shock.

"So, you decided to throw a party and didn't invite me?" she asked in a mock-hurt voice.

"Well…um…" Barry stuttered, clearly flustered to suddenly see her there.

Iris laughed and smacked him on the arm.

"Relax, Bar—Grant," she quickly corrected herself, "I doubt you wanted your _older_ sister crashing your high school party."

Barry laughed lightly at that.

"You're not going to tell your dad, are you?" he asked nervously.

"Of course not," Iris said, "but I won't need to. He's going to find out, one way or another."

Barry laughed.

"Probably," he said, looking around at the destroyed house, "I'm still going to _try_ to hide it, though."

Iris just shook her head at him.

"Well, don't think I'm helping you clean up in the morning," she said seriously, "This one's on you."

Barry laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, I figured," he said, "Sorry about all this. I'm sure you were hoping to go to bed once you got home."

He suddenly got a nervous look on his face then.

"Um, Iris," he said slowly, "About your room…"

Iris raised her eyebrows at him. What had happened to her room?

"What about it?" she asked seriously.

Barry rubbed the back of his head, not looking her in the eye.

"You might not want to go in there right now," he said awkwardly.

"Why?" she asked seriously, "What happened?"

"There…um…may be a couple of…teenagers-hooking-up-in-your-bed," he said, rushing through the last part.

Iris stared at him for a moment as she processed what he had said.

"Seriously?!" she nearly yelled.

"I'm sorry!" he said quickly, "I would have stopped them if I had known, but it's…well, it's kind of too late now."

"Ugh," she groaned, running a hand over her face, "You owe me so big for this, Barry."

" _Grant_ ," he whispered urgently.

Iris gasped and covered her mouth. She looked around, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to them.

"Sorry," she said quietly, giving him an apologetic look.

Barry laughed.

"It's okay," he said, "Just be more careful."

"Dude!" some random guy said suddenly, coming up to them, "Just so you know, someone just overflowed the upstairs bathroom."

The guy stumbled away almost as quickly as he had come, and Barry and Iris looked at each other.

"I'm officially dead," Barry said in a defeated voice.

Iris smiled and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"What kind of flowers do you want at the funeral?"

* * *

The night seemed to pass in a blur after that. Barry couldn't feel the effect of alcohol, but everything still seemed to happen in a blur of music, crazy dancing, and drinking. Iris didn't stay very long. She had been looking for a quieter night in, and she eventually decided to leave the party and go back to Eddie's alone. She probably would have stayed if the circumstances were different, but she didn't want to intrude on Barry's party, and she didn't exactly want to party with a bunch of teenagers, something Barry didn't really blame her for. They were in their mid-twenties after all.

Barry always wanted spend time with Iris, but he wasn't exactly disappointed with her decision to leave. It was hard to be Grant around her and to focus on everything else when she was around.

"Dude, your sister is so hot," Forrest said after Iris left an hour later.

Barry did his best not to groan at that, feeling especially weird about the fact that he _agreed_ wholeheartedly.

"Now that she's gone," Forrest continued in a whisper, "How 'bout that V?"

Barry shifted awkwardly where he stood. He looked down at his watch.

"It's almost two," he said slowly, "Do you think it's still worth it?"

Justin laughed.

"It's _two_ already?!' he said incredulously, "How'd it get to be so late?!"

Barry felt like it might as well be morning at this point. He felt like this night would never end. He actually _was_ having a bit of fun, but at the same time, he was anxious for the party to be over so he didn't have to worry about a bunch of teenagers trashing his house anymore.

Thankfully, the other guys decided to save the vertigo for a different time then. It had gotten to be too late for them to do it now, and Barry felt extremely grateful for at least _one_ stroke of luck.

* * *

Barry stared at the house around him after he had finished kicking out the last few stragglers who had passed out and spent the night. The house was in ruins.

Barry was completely exhausted. He didn't think he'd ever had more fun, while also being incredibly stressed out, in his life. At least the party had thankfully passed without anyone getting hurt, and Barry had made sure nobody was drinking and driving when they left. He had to call cabs for several people, but he was confident everyone got home safely in the end.

Now all he had to worry about was the house.

Joe didn't say what time he'd be home in the morning, but he had implied that he'd be coming straight home after checking out of his hotel and that he'd be home pretty early, which didn't give Barry much time. Barry had to watch where he stepped as he walked through the living room. There were chips all over the floor as if someone had spilt the entire bowl that he had set out at the beginning of the night.

The spilt chips were the least of Barry's concerns, though. He was more preoccupied with how he'd get the smell of spilt beer out of the carpet and the couch cushions. That, and how he was going to explain to Joe how his favorite vase had been broken.

The first thing Barry did was open all the windows to air out the house. It was still cold outside, and the house was going to be freezing, but it was better than having it smell. Barry sighed then as he looked at the mess. He didn't even know where to start. At least he had his powers to get him through it, but it was still going to be a pain in the ass.

Barry was afraid to even _look_ upstairs, but he swallowed back the lump of anxiety in his throat and forced himself to flash up the steps. He started with Joe's bedroom. Barry gagged and covered his mouth and nose as soon as he opened the door. The room reeked of weed. Barry immediately started thinking of a million excuses to explain it, each one stupider than the last. The best he could come up with was that a skunk had gotten into the house…and only sprayed Joe's room.

As ridiculous as the excuse was, Barry almost would have considered using it, if Joe weren't a cop. He would no doubt recognize the smell of marijuana immediately. Barry opened the window in a desperate attempt to air out the room, but it was hopeless. He sprayed nearly an entire can of air freshener in the room, but the underlying smell of weed was still detectable. Barry sighed and then moved onto the bathroom.

That room didn't smell much better. It reeked of a sour mix of booze and acidic stomach secretions. Barry found the source of the offensive odor fairly quickly when he saw the vomit on the floor next to the toilet. Someone had clearly missed the toilet bowl. That was probably the worst thing Barry had to clean up.

Barry felt guilty as he stripped Iris's sheets off her bed for her, wrinkling his nose as he held the sheets away from him, touching only the corners. After throwing them in the wash, Barry moved onto the rest of the messy house.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, "Time to _really_ get to work."

Using his speed, Barry grabbed a large garbage bag and flashed around the house, picking up all the empty cups and bottles laying around, as well as any other garbage he came across. He put the garbage in their neighbor's trash bins so Joe wouldn't see it.

He moved in a blur throughout the house, straightening photo frames, and cleaning up all the broken glass. He vacuumed and even shampooed the entire carpet. After sweeping the kitchen floor, Barry cleared off the counter, wiping it down carefully so that no evidence was left behind. He felt like he was trying to clean up a crime scene or something, and the irony of that wasn't lost on the CSI.

When he was finished, Barry stopped and caught his breath, leaning up against the counter. Feeling pretty good about his work, Barry smiled to himself as he wiped one last speck he had missed off the counter. The smile slid from his face, however, when he suddenly heard a loud, slow clapping from behind him. Barry closed his eyes in anguish for a moment before slowly turning around.

"Heeeey, Joe," he said slowly.

Joe was standing in the front doorway, his overnight bag on the floor where he had set it when he walked in to find Barry flashing around the house, speed-cleaning.

"Something you want to tell me about, Barry?"

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Parts of this chapter were inspired by Smallville.**


	11. A Skunk Got In

**A Skunk Got In**

* * *

"Joe, I didn't expect you to be home so soon," Barry said nervously.

He pulled the best smile he could manage up onto his face.

"You ruined the surprise," Barry continued cheerfully, "I wanted to clean the house for you for when you got home."

Joe gave Barry a no-bullshit expression.

"Are you seriously trying to lie to me right now, Barry?" Joe asked seriously.

Barry flushed.

"I'm not lying," he persisted, "I just—"

"Barry, I know you're lying," Joe said, crossing his arms, "Every time you lie, your ears turn red."

Barry cursed internally. He could even feel his ears heating up now under Joe's scrutiny.

"What's this?" Joe asked, walking over to the counter to pick up a small sheet of paper.

"Ah," Barry choked, knowing he was done for now.

Joe had found his cleaning checklist. Barry had thought he had covered everything, had left no evidence from the party, but he had forgotten to hide the damn list.

"Shampoo carpet," Joe read, and Barry's entire face flushed, "Hide bottles in neighbor's bins, fix toilet, hide empty kegs in basement."

Joe stopped reading and looked up at Barry, giving him one of his famous Joe West looks that he reserved for moments such as these, moments when Barry knew he was in deep shit. Barry felt like a teenager again, like the time Joe had caught him and Iris sneaking back into the house after going to a party in high school. At least Barry had been drunk then. Now, he had no alcohol in his system to numb the pain that was facing the wrath of an angry Joe West.

"You threw a _party_?" Joe asked in a dangerously low voice, "You threw a party when I was away?"

"It was for work," Barry said quickly, "It was part of my assignment."

"Oh, really?" Joe asked, still giving Barry the same disapproving look, "Singh ordered you to have a party?"

Barry sighed.

"Well…no. Not exactly," he admitted, "But he _did_ urge me to _go_ to a party so I could catch the dealer."

" _Going_ to a party and _throwing_ a party are two very different things, Barry," Joe said seriously.

"I know," Barry said, speaking fast, "But Forrest's parents wouldn't let him throw it because they caught him watering down their whiskey with iced tea, and Michael's house wasn't big enough, and Justin—"

"Barry," Joe cut him off, "I don't care what the circumstances were. What on earth was going through your head when you decided to throw a party _here_?!"

"If I hadn't thrown it here, then the party wouldn't have happened," Barry said seriously, "And it was too good of an opportunity to meet the dealer for me to pass up."

"Did you meet the dealer?" Joe asked seriously.

"Well, um…no, I didn't. But—"

"So you threw an underage party in my house for nothing," Joe said angrily, cutting him off, "I have half a mind to ground you right now."

"You can't _ground_ me, Joe," Barry said indignantly, "I'm twenty-five!"

"No, right now you're seventeen, _Grant_ ," Joe said, dead serious, "And you're living in _my_ house and therefore under my authority. You're officially grounded."

Barry gawked at him.

"You can't be serious," he said in disbelief.

"As a heart attack," Joe said flatly, not messing around.

Barry stared at him. Joe was serious! He wasn't joking! He was seriously grounding him!

Joe didn't say another word as he then grabbed up his bags and climbed the stairs. Well, at least he wasn't shouting or lecturing him. Barry would count his blessings for that. He tensed again, though, when he heard Joe shout from upstairs.

"BARRY!"

Barry reluctantly flashed up the stairs. Joe was standing in the hallway, right outside the open doorway to his bedroom. He glared at Barry once he was standing in front of him.

"Barry, care to explain why my room smells like summer breeze and skunk?"

"Ummm…" Barry said awkwardly, "A skunk got into the house?"

* * *

If Barry had thought Joe's disapproval was hard to face, it was nothing compared to Singh's. Barry couldn't even look at the captain. He was looking down at his lap, while the captain was staring at him, a serious expression on his face. The tension in the room was almost palpable, and the silence was deafening. Barry waited it out, though, waiting for his boss to speak first. Finally, Singh broke the silence.

"Did you throw a party last night?" he asked, his tone chastising.

Barry took in a deep breath and nodded, still not looking at the captain.

"You failed to mention to me, Allen, that it was your _own_ party you were going to this weekend," Singh accused.

Barry looked up at him then.

"Because at the time when I talked to you, that wasn't the case," Barry explained, "The plans ended up changing last minute. The other guys, they insisted on throwing it at my house. I was told that it was only going to be a small get together."

"Well, from what Detective Thawne told me, it was far from _small_ ," Singh said seriously.

"What did you tell Eddie?" Barry asked curiously then, "Did you tell him that I'm undercover?"

"Well, I wasn't left much of a choice, now was I?" Singh reasoned, "How else was I going to explain to him why I would condone one of my employees to be supplying alcohol to minors?"

Barry nodded slowly.

"So, Eddie knows now," he said quietly.

"Yeah, he knows," Singh told him, "Laughed his ass off for quite a bit when I told him, too."

Barry blushed. Everyone else seemed to find his assignment hysterical. Everyone but him.

Singh sighed then.

"Did you at least manage to meet the dealer last night, Allen?" he asked hopefully.

Barry looked down at his lap again as he shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry," he said quietly, "The kid decided to meet with his dealer _before_ the party instead."

Singh sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, at least we know that these kids for sure have a connection now," he reasoned, "They _did_ buy vertigo last night, right?"

Barry nodded, and then a thought occurred to him.

"Sir, I might have a bit of a problem," he said slowly, "I was offered vertigo last night after the kids had bought it, and obviously I've given these kids the impression that I've tried it before and that I'm interested in trying more, so…"

Singh's eyes widened.

"You didn't actually take it, did you?" he asked seriously.

Barry quickly shook his head.

"No. No, of course not," he said quickly, "Thankfully, that was when Eddie came to the door, and I managed to avoid it after that. I just bring it up now because we never really went over what I'm supposed to do if I find myself in that position."

Singh let out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, that is a problem," he muttered, "Usually there are cops who specialize in this sort of thing."

"What do you mean?" Barry asked curiously.

"There are cops who work undercover in drug stings for a living," Singh explained, "Usually they're trained to actually _take_ the drugs that they're going undercover for."

"I didn't know that was even legal," Barry said in surprise.

"It is," Singh assured him, "It's controversial, but it is. It's kind of necessary so that they don't blow their cover."

"So, sir," Barry said slowly, "Are you implying that I should…?"

Singh's eyes widened.

"No, of course not," he said quickly, "I would never ask you to do that, Allen. Although, technically, it wouldn't be illegal if you did. You're working under my supervision, so you wouldn't have to worry about facing any legal charges. Should you find yourself in that position again, you should use your best judgement."

"Soo…"

Singh took a deep breath before continuing.

"Let me be clear now, so there's no confusion about this," he said seriously, "You _can_ take vertigo. Legally, you can, if you absolutely have to and there's no other way out of it. That being said, I don't want you to ever feel like you _have_ to do anything you don't want to do. If that's a line you're not willing to cross for this assignment, I'd rather you blow your entire cover than do anything against your will. Is that clear, Allen?"

Barry nodded as Singh continued.

"Also, if you _do_ end up taking any illegal substances, be that vertigo, marijuana, what have you, you need to report it to me, and you need to seek medical attention for it as soon as possible. That's the policy for undercover officers involved in drug stings. It's the law."

Barry nodded again.

"Okay," he said quietly.

He sighed heavily then.

"I'm really sorry I couldn't catch the dealer last night," he said, somewhat bitterly.

"It's okay, Allen," Singh said, surprising Barry, "You've only been on this assignment for a week. I didn't expect you to get to the bottom of it that quickly. Frankly, I'm surprised by just how much progress you've made so far in such a short amount of time."

Barry stared at him. Was Singh actually giving him a compliment?

"You just keep doing what you're doing, Allen. You'll get there," Singh encouraged, but then his expression turned serious again, "But please, no more hosting parties, alright? It's bad enough that you're supplying the alcohol. We don't need to take on any more liabilities with this assignment."

Barry nodded seriously.

"No more parties," he agreed, "I promise."

* * *

Barry was in turmoil all weekend after Friday night's events. Things were extremely awkward with Joe and even Iris a little bit. She had forgiven Barry for what had transpired in her bed during his party, knowing he would have stopped it if he had known, but it was still a little awkward, to say the least. She was grateful he had washed her sheets for her, though.

Joe, on the other hand, was a different story. It seemed like every time like he was about to move past everything, he would find something amiss in the house, and he would be angry again. Barry didn't blame him, though. Joe had found a beer bottle in the dishwasher and several rolls of paper in his bedroom, which Barry didn't understand at first, until he realized it was rolling paper for marijuana. The kids had been rolling joints in Joe's bedroom.

As hard as Barry's weekend was, though, things turned around a bit when Monday came and he went to school. Everyone was raving about his party, saying it was the best party East Central High had ever seen. Or so Barry heard, from several people whom he hardly knew and had never talked to.

If Barry had known that the secret to being popular in high school was throwing wild parties, he probably would have been tempted to defy Joe a long time ago, especially since his punishment of being grounded proved to be rather ineffective.

Joe wasn't exactly going to stop Barry from going out on Flash duty, and as far as hanging out with his high school friends went, Joe couldn't really stop him, considering it was technically part of his job. The only other place Barry ever went when he left the house was Iron Heights to visit his dad, and Joe knew better by now than to stop Barry from doing that. The one time when Joe had grounded him in high school and tried to prevent him from seeing his dad didn't go over so well.

In the end, though, Joe's anger was punishment enough.

"Hey, _Grant_."

Barry looked up from his homework, and Iris immediately burst into laughter.

"Wow," she said, "You looked up so fast! You really _are_ falling into this whole Grant persona, aren't you?"

Barry rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you could have said anything just now, and I would have looked up," he pointed out.

Iris laughed and shook her head as she sat down on the couch next to him.

"Ugh," she said as she looked at the psychology homework he was doing, "I definitely don't miss doing homework."

"It's actually pretty interesting," Barry said honestly, turning a page in his textbook.

"Of _course_ it is," Iris laughed, "You're such a nerd, Bar."

Barry laughed and shook his head, still looking down at the page.

"What's this?" Iris asked suddenly, grabbing one of the textbooks he had sitting on the coffee table.

Barry blushed when he looked up and saw she was holding his sex ed textbook.

"Nothing," he said quickly, trying to snatch it away from her.

Iris held it away from him though and laughed.

"You're in _sex ed_ class?!" she asked gleefully.

"Unfortunately," Barry said seriously, not laughing, "You can thank your dad for that one. He thought it'd be funny."

"He was right," she said, still laughing, "It's _hilarious_!"

Barry rolled his eyes and attempted to ignore her as she doubled up laughing.

"Did you need me to explain to you what goes where, Grant?" Iris choked, tears in her eyes from laughing.

Barry blushed and groaned.

"Iris, it's bad enough having to learn about the birds and the bees without you making fun of me for it," he groaned.

"S-sorry," she choked, making a not-so-successful attempt to suppress her giggles, "I'm sorry, Barry. I won't make fun of you anymore."

"Thank you," Barry said stiffly, going back to his homework.

Iris leaned back on the couch and pulled out her phone. Barry blocked out the noise of whatever video she was watching, as he read an interesting paragraph about prosopagnosia, a brain disorder that causes the inability to recognize faces. His concentration was broken, however, when he heard Iris giggle.

"I still can't believe I saw you do a keg stand," she said, still looking at her phone.

Then Barry got a glimpse of what was on it.

"You took a _video_ of it?!" he asked incredulously.

Iris nodded gleefully.

"I had to take it as proof that it actually happened," she laughed, "There was no way anyone would ever believe me that I saw you, _Barry Allen_ , doing a keg stand. I'm watching the video now, and even _I_ still can't believe it. Eddie didn't believe me either until I showed him."

Barry blushed and put his face in his hands.

"You showed _Eddie_?!"

"Of course," Iris laughed, "I had to share this with _somebody_. And Eddie knows now that you're undercover, so what's the big deal?"

Barry didn't even answer her. He couldn't believe she had showed Eddie a video of him doing a keg stand. He wondered how Eddie reacted to _that_.

"You're going to hold this over me for the rest of my life now, aren't you?" Barry groaned.

"You say that like it's something to be ashamed of," Iris giggled, "I thought it was pretty awesome actually. And so did your classmates. I've seen all the posts on your Facebook page, Grant."

"Hey, stop creeping on my Facebook page," Barry laughed.

"Why? So I can't see how popular you've become?" she joked.

"You're exaggerating," Barry chuckled, going back to his psych homework.

"I don't think it's much of an exaggeration," Iris said seriously, "It seems like everyone at that school wants to be your friend."

"You don't even _go_ there, Iris," Barry said, rolling his eyes, "How would _you_ know?"

Iris just shook her head and laughed.

"I was at your party, Barry. Remember? Or did you have a little too much to drink?"

Barry's cheeks tinted pink.

"I wasn't drunk, Iris. Trust me," he laughed.

"Well, alcohol or no alcohol," Iris said, "These kids seem to make you really happy."

"I'm just playing along," Barry insisted.

"Admit it, Bar," Iris said, "You're having fun with this."

Barry laughed and shook his head.

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," he admitted.

As Barry went back to doing his homework again, he couldn't help but smile to himself. If he really was being honest, he actually was having a lot of fun.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Joe finding Barry's cleaning list was inspired by a scene from Kyle XY.**


	12. Le Châtelier's Principle

**Le Châtelier's Principle**

* * *

Barry heard Brian let out an angry sigh as another piece of paper hit the back of his head. He felt terrible for the kid. Barry had done the same thing when he was younger and he was in this position; he had ignored it. It really wasn't a _terrible_ strategy. Most bullies usually lost interest once they figured out that they couldn't get a rise out of you, but these kids seemed to be relentless, just like Tony Woodward had been.

Barry turned around in his seat and gave the guys a pointed look. They just sneered at him, and as soon as he turned back around, they continued throwing the paper. Barry knew that him standing up for Brian wasn't going to work anymore. Brian needed to start standing up for _himself_ if it was ever really going to end.

"You don't have to take that, you know," Barry whispered to his lab partner.

Brian didn't say anything in response. He just kept staring ahead, listening to Agnew's lecture on solubility.

"Brian," Barry said quietly, "You need to stand up for yourself. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

"How?" Brian asked bitterly.

"Just tell them you're not going to take it anymore," Barry advised.

"No," Brian said, rolling his eyes, "I mean, how would _you_ know? _Mr. Popular_."

Barry laughed lightly.

"I was definitely not 'Mr. Popular' at my old school," he chuckled, "Trust me, I've been where you are. I had my own fair share of bullies, too."

Brian let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, "You have every girl in this school practically _drooling_ over you and every guy wanting to _be_ you. I find that hard to believe."

"Trust me," Barry said, "It's true. And I always regret that I never did anything about it. I just let my bullies walk all over me, and if I could go back and do it all over again, I would do it all so differently."

Brian looked at Barry then, his expression a little less guarded.

"So, what should I do exactly?" he asked quietly.

Barry smiled at him. It was the first time Brian had let him in, not as the Flash, but as Grant.

"Just tell them that you're fed up with it," he advised, "That you're not going to take any of their shit anymore."

"That's not going to work," Brian sighed, "They'll just laugh at me. That's not going to solve anything."

"I'm not saying that's _all_ that you should say to them," Barry whispered, "I'm just saying it'd be a good place to start."

"There's _nothing_ I can say to them," Brian said defeatedly, "They're never going to stop."

"Brian, if I've learned anything over the years, it's that bullies are the most insecure people on the planet," Barry told him.

Just then, another piece of paper hit Brian in the back, and the boys behind them sniggered.

"Does that seem insecure to _you_?" Brian asked bitterly, nodding his head back towards them.

"Yes," Barry said firmly, "Anyone who feels the need to tear another person down just to feel good about themselves is secretly insecure about themselves."

At that moment, Mr. Agnew suddenly called on Barry.

"Grant," he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, "Do you know the answer to my question?"

Barry sighed impatiently. For real? This guy.

Mr. Agnew was always trying to catch him off guard when he thought Barry wasn't paying attention, but thanks to his multitasking exercises he had been doing at STAR Labs, he was able to follow the lecture while also talking to his lab partner at the same time. Quick thinking had come in handy more times than he could count while he was at school.

"Le Châtelier's principle," Barry answered immediately.

Mr. Agnew raised his eyebrows at him, clearly surprised he had been paying attention and knew the answer.

"But I don't think that principle applies here," Barry continued.

Mr. Agnew gave him a strange look.

"Of course it does," he huffed, pointing at the chemical equation on the board.

Barry just shook his head.

"Le Châtelier's principle is flawed and outdated," he persisted, "It's not _completely_ useless, but it doesn't work accurately for predicting the temperature of dependence of _all_ salt solubility problems."

"You're wrong, Mr. West," Mr. Agnew gritted, "If that were the case, it wouldn't be in my course curriculum."

"Actually, a lot of schools are no longer teaching the principle as fact anymore," Barry told him seriously, "There are flaws in it, and it can't be fully relied upon."

Mr. Agnew stared at him.

"Okay, I'll humor you," he said, crossing his arms, "Can you give me a _specific_ example, Mr. West? Something more than just spewing out words you read in some textbook somewhere? Do you have any thoughts of your _own_ on this subject?"

Barry rolled his eyes. He had _lots_ of them. He had done his college dissertation on this exact subject, but Mr. Agnew didn't know that.

"If you want an example, Mr. Agnew, all you have to do is look at the board," he said, "The equation you have up there is all wrong."

Agnew glared at Barry. A couple of students in the room whispered to each other. They were all looking back and forth between Barry and Mr. Agnew, nervous smiles on all their faces as they waited to see how this would play out. Barry knew he was being a smartass, and if this were any other teacher he would have just kept his mouth shut and not corrected them, but Barry had had it with this guy. Mr. Agnew was Barry's _own_ bully, and if he couldn't stand up to Agnew, then how could he tell Brian to stand up to _his_ bullies? This was the perfect opportunity for Barry to take his own advice.

"Explain," Agnew growled, his eyes narrowing.

Barry smiled.

"Le Châtelier's principle implies that because sodium hydroxide evolves heat when dissolved in water, then the solubility of the sodium hydroxide in water should _decrease_ with increasing temperature. That's incorrect, though. The solubility of sodium hydroxide actually _increases_ by roughly a factor of ten between zero and one-hundred degrees Celsius."

Mr. Agnew smirked at him then and shook his head.

"You're wrong, Mr. West," he said smugly, "The solubility _decreases_."

"Do you want to look it up?" Barry challenged, his temper rising, "Or we could run the experiment right now and find out who's right."

A few people in class gasped, shocked by Barry's nerve. Mr. Agnew's eyes flashed dangerously at him, clearly shocked to be challenged and called out like this by a student. After a moment or two of staring indignantly at Barry, Mr. Agnew suddenly stormed over to his computer to look it up. The entire class watched in nervous anticipation as Mr. Agnew searched for the answer on his computer. Barry maintained a small smile on his face as he waited, knowing one-hundred percent that he was right about this.

Barry couldn't help but feel a little smug when he saw the change in the teacher's face as he found the answer. Agnew glanced up at Barry, giving him probably the dirtiest look Barry had seen on the teacher's face thus far.

"Let's get back to the lesson now," Mr. Agnew said, walking over to the board to erase his equation.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Barry pressed, a smug smile on his face.

Mr. Agnew turned around and glared at Barry. For a moment the two of them stared at each other, neither of them breaking eye contact. The entire class looked back and forth between them nervously.

"Get out of my classroom, Mr. West," Agnew said suddenly.

"What?!" Barry said in shock.

"You heard me," Agnew gritted, "Get out."

"For what?!" Barry asked angrily, "For being right?!"

"No, for being a smartass," Mr. Agnew replied, "You have a lot to learn about respect, Mr. West. If you can't be respectful in my class, then you can leave. You can spend the rest of the period in the principal's office."

Barry shook his head in disbelief. Sure, he and Agnew had butted heads with each other from the start, but Barry had always been respectful towards the man. Maybe he had crossed the line a little bit this time, but not enough to warrant him being kicked out of the classroom.

Barry stood up and started grabbing his things to leave.

"You know," Barry said as he was walking towards the door, "Bullying and belittling high school students doesn't make you respectable, Mr. Agnew. It makes you an ass."

A choked laugh suddenly escaped Justin, who was sitting in the back of the room, and he quickly disguised it as a cough. Agnew shot him a look, and then looked back at Barry again. His eyes could have killed with the way he was glaring at Barry.

"Get out," was all he said in response.

Feeling pissed off beyond belief—and perhaps just a little bit satisfied—Barry turned on his heel and left the classroom. He was still breathing heavily as he walked towards the office. He had never been sent to the principal's office before. Not once. He couldn't believe the stupid circumstances that were behind him being sent there now.

Barry wasn't just pissed at Agnew, though. He was getting tired of _all_ of this, tired of being treated like a teenager all the time. It wasn't just at school. It was at home now, too. Joe had even _grounded_ him. Although parts of this assignment were fun, being constantly talked down to by fellow adults as if he were a child was absolutely infuriating.

As it turned out, being sent to the principal's office didn't actually mean facing the principal, himself. The man was too busy to deal with trivial things like students acting out in class. Really, all Barry did was sit in the office reception area until the bell rang, signaling the end of the period.

When the bell finally rang, Barry stood up and grabbed his books. The receptionist gave him a stern look but didn't say anything as he left the office. Really, the whole concept of going to the principal's office was stupid. It wasn't much of a consequence.

* * *

"Detective West," Joe answered his work phone.

"Hello," a man's voice responded, "Is this Joe West? Grant's guardian?"

"It is," Joe answered seriously, "Who is this?"

"This is Grant's chemistry teacher, Mr. Agnew," the man said.

"Okay," Joe said slowly, knowing this couldn't be anything good, "Is something wrong?"

"Well, I'm just calling to inform you that your son was acting out in my class today," Mr. Agnew told him, "He was talking back and being extremely disrespectful."

"That doesn't sound like Ba—Grant," Joe said skeptically, "He's never had a problem with teachers before."

"Well, frankly I find that surprising," Mr. Agnew replied, "He's had an attitude since his first day in my chem class, and he has also broken several school rules in regards to use of the chem lab. Today, however, he crossed several lines."

"What exactly did Grant do?" Joe asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

What could golden-boy Barry Allen have possibly done to warrant a phone call?

"He got into an argument with me about the way I teach my class," Mr. Agnew said, "He disrupted my lesson, and when I told him to leave the classroom, he called me an ass."

Joe raised his eyebrows in shock. He hadn't been expecting _that_.

"Oh, really."

…..

"Dude, I can't believe you called Agnew an ass right to his face!" Justin gushed as they walked to glee, "I still can't get over it!"

"I know I shouldn't have," Barry said quickly, "I just lost my temper."

"And it's a good thing you did," Justin laughed, "The whole school's been calling him that since he got here. It's about time someone finally told him to his face."

Barry just laughed and shook his head. He wasn't exactly _proud_ of his outburst, but he certainly wasn't sorry about it. Still, he had the feeling that he would be regretting it later.

"So, how are things going with your foster dad?" Justin asked, "Is he still pissed about the party?"

Barry sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, he's still pissed," he said, "He's slowly getting over it, though. He wasn't too happy when he saw all the photos on my Facebook page, though."

"Whoops," Justin laughed, "Sorry about that."

Barry laughed and waved a hand dismissively.

"No worries," he said, "He was bound to see them eventually anyways. He's a detective, after all."

"How do you ever get away with _anything_?" Justin asked sympathetically.

Barry laughed and shook his head.

"I've never been able to get away with much growing up in his house. That's what sucks about having a detective for a dad. You can't hide _anything_."

"Wait," Justin said seriously, "He doesn't know about the V, right?"

"No," Barry lied quickly, "Joe doesn't know anything about that."

"Good," Justin sighed in relief, "The last thing we need is some detective poking around in our vertigo business. Getting busted for that could really fuck up our futures."

Barry swallowed guiltily.

"Why do you do it then?" he asked quietly, "Why do you guys do vertigo at all?"

Justin laughed.

"Probably for the same reason as you," he said, shrugging, "It's not easy being a straight-A student all the time. Sometimes you just need to unwind, and vertigo is the perfect way to do that. Otherwise the stress would kill us."

Barry nodded slowly. He understood where he was coming from. His entire time in high school had also been extremely stressful—for more reasons than just school. He hadn't ever turned to drugs to relieve that stress, though—unless you counted the antianxiety meds that Joe and his therapists forced on him to help him cope with his mother's death.

Barry drank in high school, though. He had gone to parties on occasion, and there were even a few instances where he even used alcohol to cope with the stress he was under. He didn't really support these kids' decision to do drugs to relieve their stress, but he understood it.

"Speaking of vertigo," Justin continued, "The guys and I were talking about doing it sometime later this week. We thought it'd be fun if we just hung out, just the four of us, instead of waiting till your next party."

Barry laughed.

"I don't think I'm going to be throwing another party again," he said.

"You have to, though!" Justin said, "Everyone's been asking about when your next party is. And with the way people have been raving about your last one, I bet we'd have _twice_ as many people there for the next party!"

"Sorry," Barry said, "I can't afford to let that many people trash my house again. Joe found cigarettes in our _coffee maker._ If I throw another party, I'm dead."

"Fine," Justin laughed, "Everyone's going to be disappointed, but I understand. What about the V, though? Are you up for it later this week?"

Barry looked away uncomfortably before answering.

"I'm _always_ up for some good V," he lied, "I have a busy week, though, so I don't know for sure yet. If it doesn't work out, I'm cool with you guys doing it without me, though."

"Nah," Justin said, "We'll wait for a day that works for you. I kinda can't wait to see how you are when you get lit. It should be hilarious!"

Barry laughed nervously.

"Okay then," he muttered.

Little did Justin know, Barry couldn't "get lit" even if he wanted to.

Even with that being the case, though, Barry still didn't know what he was going to do about this whole vertigo thing. Singh had already told him that he could take it without having to face any legal consequences, but Barry seriously hoped he could get through this whole assignment without having to do that.

He knew the drug wouldn't affect him, but that didn't mean it wasn't a problem. If he took it, he'd still have to report it. If he didn't and it later came out that he had taken it and failed to report it to his boss, Barry could get into some serious trouble. He really hoped he'd be able to just avoid the whole mess altogether.

Barry was pulled away from his thoughts, however, when he spotted Brian just a short ways down the hall from him. Justin was confused when Barry suddenly stopped in his tracks in the middle of the hallway. Barry's heart sank when he saw that the guys from their chemistry class were surrounding Brian, all of them laughing.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Justin asked him, but Barry waved him off dismissively as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

"I think you're trying to go in the wrong bathroom there, Erickson," Troy, their stupid leader, was saying to Brian, "The ladies room is down the hall."

"Please, just let me pass," Brian said weakly.

Troy just laughed and shoved Brian back when he tried to get past them to enter the men's room. Brian glanced over at Barry then and saw him watching. Barry gave him a small nod and an encouraging smile. He saw Brian take a deep breath and then turn back to his bullies.

"I-I'm not g-going to take any m-more of your sh-shit," Brian said feebly.

The other boys just laughed at him.

"Oh yeah?" Troy asked, "And what are you going to do to stop us, Erickson?"

Barry felt his heart sink when he saw Brian clam up again, any resemblance of confident he had had now withering under his bully's laughter.

Troy and the others all laughed in Brian's face, and Barry knew that it would probably just make the kid even more closed off than he already was. Barry was shocked, however, when Brian suddenly shoved Troy in anger and brushed past him towards the bathroom door. The others weren't going to let that slide, though, and one of them quickly grabbed Brian by the scruff of his neck. Troy raised his fist then, and Brian quickly covered his face with his arms in an attempt to block the incoming blow.

The hit never came, though. Instead, Troy's fist met Barry's hand in midair, Barry's fingers clenching around the closed hand tightly.

"Dude," Justin said to Barry in surprise, "What are you _doing_?! Why are you even getting involved?!"

Barry ignored him, though, as he released Troy's fist and gently pushed Brian back, stepping between the two of them without breaking eye contact with the bully.

"The fuck you want, new kid?" Troy spat angrily.

"I want you to back the hell off and maybe try picking on someone your own size, you coward," Barry said angrily.

"Oh, yeah?" Troy smirked, "And what are you going to do about it? Cry?"

"Do you see any tears?" Barry asked in a deadly calm voice, his eyes narrowing at Troy.

Troy smirked at him, but his confidence seemed to waver slightly under Barry's intense gaze. Barry actually had to focus on not letting his eyes flash dangerously with lightning. He wasn't Barry right now, nor was he Grant. He was the Flash. And whether Troy consciously realized that or not, he seemed to get the hint rather quickly.

Barry looked away then and turned back to Brian.

"You okay?" he asked.

Brian nodded, and Barry put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on," he said, "These losers aren't worth it."

Barry steered Brian towards the stairs then, but after taking only a few steps, Barry suddenly felt hands on his back, shoving him. Barry could have stopped himself from falling easily, but in order to preserve his identity, he had no choice but to let himself go tumbling down the flight of stairs.

He hit the bottom of the stairs with a thud. When he looked back up, it was to see Troy standing at the top, smirking at him. Everyone in the crowded hallway stopped talking, and the hall and stairwell were suddenly filled with a shocked silence. Barry rose slowly to his feet at the bottom of the stairs, all the while glaring at Troy.

For a moment, Barry didn't see Troy standing there. Troy seemed to take on a different form in Barry's eyes, and Barry had to remind himself that this was just some dumb kid and that he was an adult. Troy wasn't Tony. Barry wasn't back in high school, and this wasn't a fight he wanted to get into. In fact, he could get _arrested_ for this sort of thing if he wasn't careful. Barry couldn't hit a minor.

That didn't stop Barry from climbing up the stairs, though.

Barry was soon face to face with Troy, standing just inches from the kid. In the past, Barry had always run away from bullies, and even though running was his favorite pastime now, he never felt less like running in his life.

When Troy suddenly lunged at Barry, Barry moved to the side so fast Troy hardly even knew what happened. Troy stumbled slightly and spun around to see Barry smirking at him. Barry suddenly then had Troy's fist hurling towards his face, which he dodged easily with just a slight tilt of his head. Troy swung out at him several times, but Barry dodged each punch easily, a smile on his face the whole time. One of the punches that Troy threw ended up making contact with the wall when Barry dodged it, and Troy howled out in pain, clutching his fist with his other hand.

Several of Barry's classmates cheered and laughed. Troy blushed furiously and lunged out at Barry again, but Barry moved to the side and ended up grabbing Troy from behind when he passed. From behind him, Barry looped his hands under Troy's arms and put him in a headlock that Troy couldn't get out of, not from lack of trying, though. Troy squirmed furiously in Barry grasp.

"Are you done?" Barry asked in amusement.

Troy growled in frustration, but before he could say anything, a different voice rang out.

"Mr. West, release him _now_."

Barry looked over. Just his luck. Of all the teachers that could have been passing by.

It was Mr. Agnew.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Fight scene by inspired by the first Spider-Man movie and a fight scene from Kyle XY.**

* * *

 **Happy National Antibullying Day, everyone. You don't need superpowers to be somebody's hero.**


	13. Hero Complex

**Hero Complex**

* * *

Joe was shocked just to get _one_ phone call, but _two_?! In one day?! He still couldn't believe it. As he walked into the high school, he couldn't stop thinking to himself that Barry had better have a _damn_ good explanation for this.

The secretary at the reception desk pointed him towards the principal's office, and Joe didn't waste any time heading there. When he opened the office door, the three people in the room looked at him.

The principal, Mr. Atkins, was sitting behind his desk, a tired and irritated look on his face. One other man, whom Joe could only assume was the teacher who called him earlier, was standing near the window, arms crossed with an indignant expression occupying his features. Joe only glanced at them before his eyes landed on Barry, who was sitting in the chair at the desk, across from the principal.

"What happened?" Joe sighed tiredly.

"Your little punk of a son—"

"Charlie," Principal Atkins said, cutting Mr. Agnew off, "I'll handle this."

Agnew looked back and forth between the principal, Joe, and Barry, a look of frustration on his face.

"Fine," he huffed.

He shot one last dirty look at Barry before crossing the room, brushing past Joe as he exited the small office. Once he was gone, Joe sighed and stepped forward to shake the principal's hand.

"Sorry about this," Mr. Atkins said as Joe sat down in the chair next to Barry, who couldn't even look at him, "This meeting won't take long. I didn't have a choice but to call you. It's school policy to call the parents of any student involved in a fight."

"A _fight_?!" Joe asked incredulously, rounding on Barry.

This was serious. This was really bad! What was Barry thinking?! He's an adult! He can't go around getting into petty fights with minors!

"You can relax, Mr. West," the principal assured him, "Your son, Grant, isn't in any trouble."

Joe raised his eyebrows at him.

"He's not?"

"I'm not?" Barry asked, clearly just as surprised.

"No," Mr. Atkins said, looking at Barry, "Multiple students who witnessed the incident have come forward, and all of them insist that you were only trying to stand up for a fellow student. From what I gather, you didn't even throw a single punch."

Barry sighed in relief.

"That's right," he confirmed, "I didn't. I was just trying to stop him from hurting my friend. I'm really sorry that it turned into what it did. I really wasn't trying to start a fight, sir."

"I appreciate the apology, Mr. West," the principal said seriously, "But you have to know, if this kind of thing happens again, you won't get off so easily."

"I understand," Barry nodded, "Thank you, sir."

"So that's it?" Joe asked the principal seriously then.

"That's it," Mr. Atkins said, nodding, "Like I said, I'm sorry to call you and make you come all the way here. It's school policy, though."

Joe nodded slowly.

"Okay, then," he said unsurely, and he and Barry both rose from their seats.

School hours were over now, and the halls were empty as Joe and Barry walked down them towards the exit.

"You mind explaining today to me, son?" Joe asked seriously as they walked.

Barry sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"I swear I really didn't intend to get into a fight," he said sincerely, "I was just trying to stop another kid from getting bullied."

"You're not supposed to be drawing attention to yourself, Barry," Joe scorned, "You're supposed to get in, find the supplier, and get out. That's your main focus, not petty high school drama."

"Joe, I couldn't stand by and watch while the kid got his ass kicked," Barry reasoned, "Bystanders to bullying are just as guilty. Do you know how many times I wish someone had stood up for _me_ when I was in school?"

Joe's expression softened slightly, and his lips even turned up into a small smile.

"Can't get rid of that hero side of you, huh?" he said softly.

Barry smiled at him.

"Nope," he said, "The Flash is in both Barry Allen _and_ Grant West."

Joe sighed and rubbed his eyes as they reached the parking lot.

"You're lucky Singh doesn't know about this," he said seriously, "I doubt he'd be as understanding of your need to step up as I am."

"Singh doesn't know?" Barry asked hopefully.

Joe shook his head.

"And we're going to keep it that way," he said firmly, "There's no point in getting him worked up, especially since nothing really happened. You were lucky."

Barry nodded.

"I'll see you at home then, Grant," Joe said as he climbed into his squad car, "And then we can discuss why you called your teacher an ass today."

Barry's mouth dropped open. Before he could say another word, Joe pulled out of the lot, leaving Barry to walk back to his car alone, dreading the conversation he would be having when he got home.

* * *

Barry had been really enjoying his psychology class. It was one of the few classes that he actually looked forward to going to. His teacher, Mrs. Stewart, was a fairly simple instructor. Not super easygoing but also not too strict. He had taken multiple psychology courses throughout high school and college, and he still had to take a law enforcement psychology course every two years or so for his job, so the information wasn't exactly new to him. It was still interesting, though, and it was nice that they weren't just focusing on _criminal_ psychology.

He enjoyed learning about the different psychologists in history. He thought their theories and experiments were extremely interesting. All except Freud, though. That guy was just a crazy pervert.

Barry also found it interesting to learn about the different psychological conditions that people can have. The class focused on some pretty abstract psychological conditions; some of them, Barry had never even heard of.

Barry wasn't too happy, however, with the condition they were talking about today.

"The interesting thing about Hero Complex Syndrome," Mrs. Stewart was saying, "is that it presents itself in so many different ways. The sense of duty to act is seen in many different professions, including doctors, nurses, firemen, and law enforcement. Many people in these types of professions develop the syndrome, and their hero complex drives them to act beyond their scope of duty. On the other hand, the syndrome can affect other people who are _not_ in a life-saving field of work.

"Hero Complex Syndrome is recognized as a legitimate mental disorder. Now, as we've already discussed, a complex disorder is defined as a distorted thought or sensory pattern that has been deeply ingrained into a person's psyche. It decides a vast chunk of that person's perception and decision making in terms of how they relate to others, their emotional experiences and a sense of self.

"A complex can affect someone for many reasons, but a _hero_ complex is usually seen alongside a childhood trauma, narcissistic tendencies, or a failed previous attempt at heroism. Often, it's some combination of the three."

Barry raised his hand then.

"Yes, Grant?" Mrs. Stewart asked kindly.

"Can you explain what you mean by 'narcissistic tendencies?'" he asked, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.

Mrs. Stewart nodded.

"The syndrome often affects young men in particular," she explained, "Often, people with the syndrome have a desperate yearning for self-worth. The syndrome is also equated with attention-seeking and hero-recognition. In many cases, the 'hero' actually _creates_ dangerous situations so that they can play the part of the hero. For example, many people with the syndrome commit arson. They start fires in order to get the credit and recognition for putting them out."

"But not everyone with the syndrome does that," Barry insisted, "Some of them just really want to help people."

He wasn't admitting to himself that he had this "Hero Complex Syndrome" but if he did, it most definitely wasn't about seeking attention.

"That's true," Mrs. Stewart agreed, "Not all of them are just seeking attention. The problem is more of an _internal_ dilemma than anything else. Hero complexes are usually rooted in a personal struggle to find self-worth. The person usually feels incomplete without the sense of heroism in their lives, and when they fail in their heroics, they often suffer from intense emotional breakdowns. Their sense of duty to play the hero usually takes over their whole persona over time, and they often lose sight of who they were before. The Flash, for example, started out with just a few saves here and there. Now, there are reports of his involvement in life-threatening situations almost every night, suggesting that his part-time duties as the Flash have become full-time and taken over a good portion of his life. Almost like an addiction."

Barry stared at her. An addiction?

Another student raised her hand then, and Mrs. Stewart called on her.

"Do you think the Flash has Hero Complex Syndrome?" she asked curiously.

Mrs. Stewart laughed and nodded without hesitation.

"I have no doubt that he does," she confirmed, "I'd hate to be his therapist. I bet a psychologist would have a field day with him. He'd be an interesting case study."

Barry couldn't fight the blush that spread across his cheeks.

"So does that mean that the Flash isn't really a hero?" another student asked in confusion, "He's just a nut job with a hero complex?"

"I didn't say he wasn't a hero," Mrs. Stewart corrected, "I just said that a guy who decides to make himself responsible for everything that goes wrong in this city must have some deep, underlying issues going on."

"You don't have to have issues to be a hero," Barry said defensively.

Mrs. Stewart shook her head.

"No, you don't," she agreed, "But in a case as extreme as the Flash, more often than not, there are some kind of psychological elements at play."

"So what do you think it is for the Flash?" a girl in the class asked, "Why do think he does what he does?"

Mrs. Stewart shook her head.

"That, I couldn't say without knowing more about him," she said, "He could just be narcissistic. I mean, just look at what he wears. Someone who runs around in a proud suit like that must be seeking _some_ kind of attention. Then again, he hides his face and his identity, so I think there must be something else going on there. Maybe a childhood trauma. Maybe a lack of a sense of control in his day-to-day life. There could be any number of reasons for him to feel the need to save people, but there is _definitely_ a reason behind it. Powers or no powers, people don't just decide to risk their lives for others for no reason."

Barry didn't say anything. He had never thought much about the psychology behind him becoming the Flash. He had always thought it was simple. He had gotten these powers, and he had decided to use them. He had never questioned why. It seemed like the obvious thing to do. Mrs. Stewart was right, though. Powers or no powers, what he was doing wasn't exactly what most people would have done. Most people would have kept them for themselves, would have used them for their own personal gain.

Then again, Mrs. Stewart had said it was common for people in law enforcement. That definitely could have come into play. Barry didn't want to think about the rest of it, though. He didn't want to think about how his mother's murder or his lack of control over his father's conviction had led to him becoming the Flash. Then again, he knew that was all probably true.

As enlightening as the subject was, Barry was still happy when Mrs. Stewart moved on and started talking about eating disorders instead.

* * *

"You can start by cleaning the Bunsen burners," Mr. Agnew told him when Barry showed up for detention, "And then you can—"

"—clean out all the used test tubes," Barry finished for him, "Yeah, I remember from my first detention with you."

Mr. Agnew gave him a stern look.

"I have a faculty meeting right now," he told him, "I'll be back in an hour. I expect you to be finished by then."

Barry nodded stiffly, and then Agnew left the room. Well, at least this time Barry wouldn't have to deal with having the man watching him work with a smug look on his face. As soon as Agnew had heard that Barry had gotten out of being punished the other day, he decided to take matters into his own hands by giving him detention. Barry would have argued, but he really didn't want to draw more attention to himself, so he just sucked it up and went to detention.

There was one other great thing about having Agnew leave the room. Barry could use his speed to get the job done. In less than a minute, Barry had all the Bunsen burners cleaned out. As he was walking towards the sink to clean the test tubes, Barry glanced at the chemical shelf next to him.

He had to hold back a groan when he saw it. Seriously? Did no one know how to properly organize chemicals anymore? This was one of the worst shelf setups Barry had every seen! Barry was tempted to rearrange the chemicals, but he knew that would just piss Agnew off and get him in more trouble. Still, it was painful just to look at the shelf. He had nitric acid next to hydrazine! Permanganates on the shelf above acetone! Sodium hydroxide next to…pseudoephedrine?

Barry stared at the jar, thinking he must be reading the label wrong. It had to be mislabeled. There was no way Mr. Agnew had pseudoephedrine in his lab stock. What on earth would he do with it? There wasn't a single experiment that Barry could think of that would require pseudoephedrine. It wasn't really used in chemistry at all. It was used by pharmaceutical companies.

Actually, now that Barry thought about it, he was shocked by how _much_ of it Agnew had in his possession. It was a controlled substance. It was usually sold over the counter, but the amount of it that a person could buy at a time was regulated by the FDA and the FBI. Barry didn't know the exact laws, but he was pretty sure they limited it to 10 grams a month at the very most. Agnew had easily 100 grams of the stuff here.

This was weird. This was _very_ weird. Pseudoephedrine was used as a nasal decongestant, but it also had a stimulating effect on the body. The reason why it was a controlled substance was because it could be used to make meth if someone had their hands on large amounts of it. Which led Barry to wonder, could pseudoephedrine also be used to make vertigo? Vertigo was a stimulant, after all.

Was Agnew the supplier?

Barry's heartrate picked up as he set the jar of pseudoephedrine back down on the shelf. It all made sense now. What better place for a drug supplier to be undercover than a high school? It'd be easy access to his clients. It actually explained a lot. It explained why Agnew seemed to hate his job so much, why he hated teaching and seemed to hate his students.

He wasn't really a teacher.

Barry was shaking with excitement at this discovery. He couldn't wait to tell Singh about this! This was huge! He might have just cracked this whole case! Now it was simply a matter of proving it. He had to find a way to expose Agnew. Simply possessing that much pseudoephedrine wasn't exactly a smoking gun. Barry knew they would have to actually _catch_ Agnew in the act, but with Joe and Singh's help, Barry was confident they could arrange a sting to set up Agnew.

As soon as he was done with this detention, he would go straight to Singh and Joe. He would finish the tasks Agnew had given him and play it cool when the man came back, and then he'd flash to the CCPD.

With a grin on his face, Barry quickly flashed his way through cleaning the test tubes, taking care not to accidentally break the fragile glass in his hasty movements. He speed scrubbed them, and rinsed them, then flashed his way through hanging them up on the rack to dry. When he finished and turned around, drying off his hands, the smile slid from his face in an instant.

Brian was standing there staring at him, his eyes wide open in shock.


	14. Secret Identities

**Secret Identities**

* * *

Barry stared at Brian in shock. The kid was frozen as he stared back at him with wide eyes. Barry knew it was pointless to hope maybe Brian hadn't seen. It was written all over the kid's face.

"Brian," Barry said cautiously, putting his hands out.

"How did you do that?" Brian squeaked.

"Brian, I—"

"You're a metahuman!" Brian ejected loudly.

"Shh!" Barry said urgently, looking toward the door, hoping no one was passing by who could have overheard him, "Brian, please, you can't tell any—"

"Oh, my God!" Brian said suddenly, his eyes widening further, "You're the—!"

"Brian, _please_ keep your voice down," Barry begged desperately.

Brian covered his mouth and gave him an apologetic look before continuing on in a whisper.

"You're the _Flash_!" he whispered frantically, his lowered voice not concealing his excitement, "I can't believe this! _Grant West_ is the Flash!"

Barry had to fight the urge to laugh. Brian _almost_ had it right.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept this a secret," Barry said nervously.

Brian didn't respond, though. He gawked at Barry like he was some sort of alien.

"I can't believe the Flash is in _high school_!" he said incredulously, "I thought he was older."

"Brian, did you hear what I said about keeping this a secret?" Barry asked urgently.

"You saved my life!" Brian said, smacking his forehead at the realization, "Last week, it was _you_ who pushed me out of the way of that truck!"

"Brian," Barry said seriously.

"I can't believe this!" Brian said excitedly, "I can't believe that all this time, the Flash has been my _lab partner_!"

"Brian, listen to me!" Barry snapped desperately, "You can't tell _anyone_! Understand? I need you to tell me you understand that. Tell me you'll keep this a secret!"

Brian gawked at him.

"Why would you want to keep this a secret?!" he asked incredulously, "Do you realize how _famous_ you are?!"

Barry shook his head at him.

"I don't do it for the fame," he said seriously.

"Then why _do_ you do it?" Brian asked curiously, "What made you wake up one day and decide to be a superhero?!"

Barry gave Brian a confused look.

"To help people," he said obviously, "What else am I supposed to do with these powers?"

"I don't know," Brian said slowly, "I just know that if I were going to be a superhero, I'd want a little more… _recognition_ for it."

Brian leaned forward excitedly then.

"So, I have to ask you some questions," he said quickly, a huge grin on his face, "I've been going crazy wondering for the longest time just how fast the Flash really is."

Barry sighed.

"Before I tell you any more," he said seriously, "I need your absolute promise that you're going to keep my secret, Brian."

"Yeah, of course," Brian said quickly, giving an impatient wave of his hand.

"I mean it," Barry said, giving him a pleading look, "You're agreeing to not tell people my identity, but I know how tempting it's going to be for you to tell other people that you know the Flash, even if you don't disclose my name. I can't have you doing that either."

Brian's face fell slightly, and Barry knew that he had been right. The kid had to be itching to tell his peers that he knew the Flash's secret identity.

"It's dangerous, Brian," Barry said seriously, "I have a lot of enemies who might try to use you to get to me if they ever found out that you knew."

"How do you handle all of this?" Brian asked, his excitement not as vibrant now, "You're just a kid. How do you balance a dangerous life as the Flash with your normal high school life?"

"I get by just fine," Barry assured him, "Peter Parker was in high school when he became Spiderman."

"Yeah, but that's a comic book," Brian pointed out, "This is real life."

"True," Barry sighed, "It all seems so glamorous and fun when you read about it in a comic, but in real life…it can be terrifying sometimes, to be honest. Which is why I need you to promise to keep my secret, for _both_ our safety."

Brian sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Okay," he said, "I won't tell anyone. But you have to answer _all_ of my questions. I have a lot of them."

Barry laughed lightly.

"I'll answer whatever I can," he agreed.

He wasn't going to tell the kid _everything_ , but the small questions, he could answer.

"Okay," Brian said enthusiastically, "So, Captain Cold. What's his deal?"

Barry laughed and started answering Brian's questions, and like Brian had said, he had a lot of them.

* * *

When Barry finally left the school, he raced to the CCPD as fast as he could, a small sample of the pseudoephedrine he had found in hand. He wasted no time knocking on the captain's door, entering as soon as Singh responded.

"Barry," Singh said in surprise, "I wasn't expecting you today. You're supposed to be giving me your report tomorrow."

"I think I found something," Barry said excitedly, placing the small evidence bag on the captain's desk.

Singh raised his eyebrows and picked it up, looking at the small amount of white powder inside the bag.

"What is this, Allen?" he asked seriously, "Cocaine?"

Barry shook his head quickly.

"It's pseudoephedrine," he told him, "At least, that's what it was labeled as. I'm going to analyze it in my lab to verify it, but I have no reason to believe that it's not."

Singh raised his eyebrows at him.

"What's pseudo...?"

"Pseudoephedrine," Barry finished for him, "It's a nasal decongestant."

Singh gave him a confused look.

"I don't follow, Allen," he said, "How exactly does someone with sinus issues help us with the case?"

"Because pseudoephedrine is also a stimulant," Barry explained quickly, "What you're holding right there is at least four doses of it, and that's only a tiny sample of the stock I took it from. The person I took this from had to have had at least a hundred grams of the stuff, which is way over the legal limit of ten grams a month."

"I don't get it," Singh said, still frowning, "What does this have to do with vertigo?"

"Pseudoephedrine is regulated because it can be used to cook methamphetamine," Barry told him quickly, "It's used by people in the drug industry for its stimulating effects, and my theory is that it's an ingredient in vertigo."

The captain raised his eyebrows then and leaned forward in his chair.

"Where did you get this from, Allen?" he asked urgently, "Who was in possession of it?"

"Charles Agnew," Barry replied immediately, "He's a teacher at the school. I don't know much about him, but I know he's new there, has only been there a year. And guess where he transferred from."

"Starling," Singh said quietly.

Barry nodded.

"It's the perfect cover," he said quickly, "He has unlimited access to his clients—high school students—and he obviously knows chemistry because he cooks the vertigo. What better cover than to pose as a high school chemistry teacher?"

Singh sighed.

"What you're saying makes sense, Allen, it does," he said, "But it's not exactly a smoking gun either. There could be a lot of reasons why this Charles Agnew would have that much pseudoephedrine in his possession. It doesn't necessarily make him a vertigo supplier."

Barry shook his head stubbornly.

"There's no other reason that _I_ can think of," he insisted, "Pseudoephedrine isn't used in any type of chemistry that I know of. It's considered more of a drug than it is a chemical. At least run a background check on the guy."

"I will," Singh assured him seriously, "And I'll let you know what I find. Good work, Allen."

Barry smiled at him and then left the small office, still buzzing with excitement. He may have just solved this entire case.

* * *

"Where have you been lately?" Cisco asked when Barry entered STAR Labs an hour late.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "I've been here almost every day this week."

"Yeah, but you've been late every day," Cisco said, crossing his arms.

"I'm always late," Barry said with a shrug, "You know that."

"No, you're _occasionally_ late," Cisco corrected, "Not always. Not every _day_."

"Sorry," Barry said sincerely, "I've been working late the last two weeks. I'm working on a big case, and it's taking up a lot of my time."

"Do you want help?" Cisco asked then, deflating a bit.

Barry shook his head.

"No, I've got it now, I think," he said happily, "Besides, I can't come running to you guys every time I have a difficult case. I have to do my job on my own sometimes."

"Alright then," Cisco laughed, "If I were you, I'd get your ass in the treadmill room then. Dr. Wells is not happy with how little progress you've been making with your speed. He thinks you've been too distracted lately."

Barry laughed.

"Sometimes I think Wells wants me to get faster more than _I_ do," he joked, "Which is weird, considering how originally, he didn't want me to 'go out and play hero' in the first place."

Cisco laughed, too.

"That's before he knew how badass you were," he chuckled, "Seriously, though, I'd get in there and start running before Dr. Wells comes back. He's already going to tear you a new one for being late."

Barry laughed and started walking towards the treadmill room. He stopped, though, when his phone started to ring.

"I have to answer this," he said seriously to Cisco, "It's Singh. It's probably about my case. He was going to run a background check for me."

"Since when does the captain of the CCPD run background checks on his own?" Cisco asked curiously.

Barry didn't respond, though, as he answered his phone.

"Did you find anything?" he asked excitedly.

"I ran the entire check as soon as you left," Singh told him.

"You ran the entire check already?!" Barry asked incredulously, "How'd you do it so quickly?"

Normally background checks took a couple days to process, so Barry was shocked to be getting a call from Singh so soon.

"It didn't take very long," the captain told him, "Because there was nothing to find."

"He's clean?" Barry asked, feeling somewhat disappointed.

"No," Singh said seriously, "There's definitely something fishy going on here. Allen, when I say there's nothing to find, I mean there's _nothing_. I can't find any records for a Charles Agnew before 2007. It's as if—"

"As if he didn't exist," Barry finished for him, "He changed his name."

"That appears to be the case," Singh confirmed, "I think you're definitely onto something here, Allen. I want you to dig into this and get to the bottom of it."

"I will," Barry said firmly, "Thank you, sir."

After Barry hung up the phone, he turned back to Cisco, who had been listening to Barry's half of the conversation with curiosity.

"Okay, maybe I _will_ take up your offer to help," Barry said, walking over to the desk, "I need you to run a check for me. Get me everything you can find on Charles Agnew."

Cisco nodded and excitedly started typing on his computer. He was always eager to help with Barry's cases. Even though he worked with the Flash on a day-to-day basis, it was always exciting for him to help with police cases occasionally.

"What exactly am I looking for?" Cisco asked him, "What did this guy supposedly do?"

"We suspect he's part of a big drug operation in Central City," Barry explained, "But we don't know anything about him, so I'll take whatever you can find."

"Here," Cisco said, pushing his chair back from the computer, so Barry could get closer to it, "That didn't take long. There wasn't much to find. He has no criminal record, but I found several articles about different teaching seminars he's went to. He even won an award for some of his chemistry theories back in 2009. It looks like he's a teacher at East Central City High now."

Barry perused the articles quickly, reading all of them at super speed.

"Nothing before 2007," he muttered to himself, before he noticed something, "Wait a second."

He scrolled through all the articles again.

"Look at this," he said, pointing at the screen, "What do all of these articles have in common?"

Cisco looked at the screen, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Um…" he said, "They all talk about what a great teacher he is?"

Barry snorted.

"Trust me, he's not a great teacher," he muttered, "But look at the dates on the articles. They were all published on the same day."

"What?" Cisco asked, looking closer at the computer.

"It's as if they were all deliberately planted there," Barry concluded, "They're fake."

"Woah," Cisco said, scrolling through the articles, "I didn't notice that at first. Good eye."

Barry grinned at him.

"CSI, remember?" he said, "Attention to detail is the most important part of my job."

Barry stepped away from the computer then and pulled out his phone, texting Joe.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "But this is huge. I'm going to have to take a raincheck on training today. I have to talk to Joe about this. He's working this case, too. We're going to have to put our heads together and see if we can find out who this guy really is."

"Alright," Cisco said understandingly, "But you get to be the one to explain that to Dr. Wells."

* * *

Barry groaned in frustration.

"I don't get it," he said, throwing his laptop to the side on the couch next to him, "If Agnew changed his name, it should be in the public records, but they're sealed."

"You really can't find anything?" Eddie asked desperately.

He had insisted on helping with the case. Joe was his partner, after all. Barry agreed to let him in on it on the one condition that Eddie wasn't allowed to make fun of him for his undercover assignment. Eddie had still gotten a few lighthearted jabs in, but at this point they were all too preoccupied with the case to joke around much.

Barry shook his head at Eddie.

"I just don't get it," he said in frustration, "Even if the records are sealed, I should still be able to hack my way into them. I'm no expert hacker, but I should at least be able to hack this. It's not exactly like hacking into the Pentagon."

"What's the problem, exactly?" Joe asked in confusion.

"It's as if the records don't even exist," Barry explained, "They're not just sealed. It's as if they were completely deleted."

Joe and Eddie frowned at him.

"Have you been able to find anything _else_?" Eddie asked hopefully.

Barry shook his head.

"No," he said stiffly, "And Cisco didn't find anything using the STAR Labs software either. It's like this guy just appeared out of thin air."

They were interrupted then by a pounding at their front door.

"I'll get it," Iris said, standing up from the couch.

She was bored anyways, seeing as there wasn't much help she could offer in their work assignment, even with her reporting skills. They knew way more about the case than she did.

Iris walked over to the door and opened it. She was surprised to find four men standing on their doorstep, all of them wearing police uniforms.

"Is this the residence of Grant West?" one of them asked seriously.

Barry, who had heard the man speak, stood up from the couch and approached the door curiously.

"I'm Grant West," he said to them, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took in their SCPD uniforms.

What were officers from Starling doing at his doorstep?

"Mr. West, we're going to need you to come with us," the officer said seriously, stepping forward.

"What?" Barry asked in confusion as the man turned him around and clasped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists behind his back.

"What is this about?!" Joe demanded, approaching the officers in their doorway.

"Your foster son is under arrest for suspected possession and distribution of vertigo," the officer answered, "He's going to have to come with us to the police station in Starling for questioning."

"He's not going anywhere," Joe said angrily, "Under what grounds are you arresting him?"

"We have evidence that suggests Grant is involved in the cooking of illegal drugs," the officer answered, "Because he's a minor, you're permitted to come along as his legal guardian, but he is still going to have to come to the station with us for questioning."

Barry didn't resist as the officer then pushed him forward. He walked numbly down the front path of Joe's house, completely dumbstruck as the officer deposited him into the back of a cop car.


	15. Interrogation

**Warning: Drugs—very graphic scene.**

* * *

 **Interrogation**

* * *

It was a long and very tense drive to Starling City. Barry didn't say anything as he rode in the back of the cop car. He had half a mind to tell them who he really was, that he wasn't really Grant West and that he was an undercover CSI, but he decided to exercise his right to remain silent for now. It seemed like the smart thing to do.

He didn't want to give away his identity prematurely, but it was comforting to know he could at any time and that it could potentially get him out of this. It was also comforting to know Joe was driving right behind them and that he wasn't alone.

Barry couldn't stop wracking his brain, trying to think about what he could possibly have done to make them think _he_ was the dealer. Maybe it had something to do with his party. They hadn't actually done vertigo that night, but vertigo had been there. Maybe another kid at the party had overheard something and ratted them out. Maybe when he got to Starling, it would be to find that Forrest, Justin, and Michael had all been arrested for possession, too.

Even though the three kids were technically guilty of doing vertigo, Barry really hoped that wasn't the case. They were still good kids, for the most part, and he never wanted to see them go down for any of this mess. He had even refused to disclose their names to Singh in an effort to protect them.

When they got to the station, however, Barry's friends weren't there. They had just arrested Barry, and Barry was still at a complete loss to figure out why. They led Barry to an interrogation room in the back of the SCPD precinct, where Barry sat for the longest time until Joe finally entered the room.

"They're allowing me to be present for your questioning," he said, taking a seat next to Barry at the interrogation table, "Since you're a minor and all."

Barry nodded shakily.

"This is all just a misunderstanding, dad," he said seriously, giving Joe a pointed look.

Joe nodded slightly in understanding. He and Barry both knew there was a camera in the room and that they were being listened to. Anything that was said in any part of a police station—even the _bathroom_ —could be used against you.

Joe seemed to understand where Barry was going with this. He wasn't going to reveal his identity unless he absolutely had to. If this case was sensitive enough that Singh had gone through the trouble to keep it from the entire CCPD department, then it wouldn't be a good idea to blow the whole operation by telling a bunch of SCPD officers about it, even if they were obviously working the same case.

"I know, Grant," Joe said pointedly, "I know you would never do anything like this."

A few minutes later, an officer walked into the room. He didn't say anything at first as he walked around the table and sat down across from them. He still didn't speak once he was seated. Instead he folded his hands on top of the table and stared at them.

Barry knew immediately what he was doing. He was waiting for someone else to speak first. It was a common tactic used by officers in interrogations. Little did they know, Barry not only grew up with a detective for a foster father, but he had also been trained in this, and he knew exactly what tactics officers used to get people to slip up.

The officer was waiting for Barry to start pleading his case. If he immediately started launching into an explanation or a story to try to exonerate himself, he would look guilty. If he remained completely silent, however, he would like he was trying too hard to play their game.

"What is this about?" Barry asked then, breaking the silence, "Why am I here?"

"You tell me," the detective replied, "Why do _you_ think we brought you here today?"

"I don't know," Barry said earnestly.

He had to be careful. He had almost said 'I _honestly_ don't know," which would have been the wrong thing to say. Using phrases like 'honestly' and 'to tell you the truth' implies that everything else you say is _un_ truthful. Barry had to think carefully about every response he gave, but he had to do it in a way that didn't seem like he was thinking too hard about it. He was under a microscope right now. His every word, every gesture and facial expression, was being analyzed.

Joe remained silent, knowing Barry could handle this. Actually, Barry could probably handle this better than _he_ could. Sure, Joe interrogated people for a living, but he had never been on the receiving end of it before. As his foster son, Barry had many times, thanks to Joe. Barry's powers also allowed him to think over his responses at rapid speed, and his time as the Flash helped him to do well under pressure. Hiding his identity had also made him a very good liar. The only person Barry couldn't ever lie to was Joe, and that was only because Joe knew him so well.

"You want to tell me about the vertigo, Grant?" the officer across from them said calmly.

"You mean the drug?" Barry asked, "What does that have to do with me?"

Barry knew he had to play dumb, but he also couldn't _over_ do it. Someone who was inexperienced in being interrogated might have responded, 'what's vertigo?' which would have been overkill.

"You can drop the act now," the officer said, "We already know about how you're making it. We even know where you're getting your ingredients. All we want to know now is who your clients are."

Barry had to fight back a smile. He knew what the officer was doing. He was pretending as if he knew something so that Barry would be forced into letting his guard down.

"Well, you must have the wrong guy then," Barry persisted stubbornly, allowing just a hint of anger—but not too much anger—to leak into his voice, "I don't make vertigo."

The officer smiled and sat back in his chair, surveying Barry with calculating eyes.

"Nate Williams," he said suddenly, "Does that name ring any bells?"

Barry shook his head honestly. He had never even heard the name before.

"Nate Williams is a high school student who overdosed on vertigo last week," the detective continued, "We questioned him when he was in the hospital recovering, and he named _you_ as his dealer. He told us he got it directly from you at your party last week."

Barry's heartrate sped up. What? This didn't make any sense. Why would some kid claim he had gotten drugs from him?

Barry suddenly understood then. He had seen this tactic used by Joe before. Joe had been interrogating a man who had supposedly broken in and robbed someone's house. Instead of talking about the robbery, Joe had asked him about all the guns he had stolen and whom he had sold them to. Little did the man know, there had never been any guns and Joe had made the whole thing up. The man ended up confessing to the robbery but adamantly denied stealing any guns. It had been an easy confession to get.

"I've never even _heard_ of Nate Williams before," Barry said seriously.

"Well, he was at your party," the officer said skeptically, "You've really never heard of him?"

Barry shrugged.

"A lot of people were at that party," he said simply, "And I'm new to the school, so no. I don't know who he is."

"Well, he knows _you_ ," the detective persisted, "And he said you were the one who sold him the drugs. He also said you sold vertigo to his friend, Todd Swensen. But I'm guessing you've never heard of him before either, huh?"

Barry swallowed.

"Yes," he said quietly, "I've heard of him. He's the kid who died from an overdose over the winter break."

Barry knew where the detective was going with this. He was using both real and fake information to get Barry to talk. Barry doubted whether Nate Williams even existed, but the Swensen kid, he knew was real.

"You realize I could charge you with third-degree manslaughter, Grant?" the detective asked seriously, "You could be charged with Todd Swensen's death."

Barry took a deep breath to calm himself. The detective was trying to scare him. The same way that Joe did with the robber with the guns, he was trying to accuse him of a bigger crime in order to scare him into admitting to a smaller one.

"I never met Todd," Barry said somberly, "He died before I even moved to Central City. I never sold him drugs. I never sold _anyone_ drugs."

"You say you just moved to Central City?" the officer asked.

Barry nodded.

"That's interesting," the officer said slowly, "Because we checked your records. Your old address here in Starling doesn't quite match up. Digging further into your records, we found quite a few things that didn't match up, Grant, if that's even your real name."

Barry stared at him, debating whether or not he should cave and finally let them know that he worked for the CCPD. He decided not to show his cards quite yet, though.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, feigning confusion.

Rather than pursue the subject, the detective rapidly switched to a different one, trying to confuse him.

"Do you want to tell me what you're doing with pseudoephedrine, Grant?"

Barry blinked at him.

"What?" he asked dumbly, "What's that?"

Rather than answer him, though, the detective gestured towards the glass wall, which Barry knew was a one-way mirror. Clearly there was someone standing on the other side of it, and he found out who that was rather quickly when no one other Charles Agnew walked into the room.

"What…?!" Barry said in shock.

"Mr. Agnew works for the SCPD," the detective told him, "He's been undercover in East Central City High School for over a year, trying to track down the vertigo dealer."

Mr. Agnew smiled smugly at him as he sat down at the desk across the table from Barry.

"Thought you'd go snooping around my lab, huh, Grant?" he asked smugly.

Barry and Joe just stared at him in shock. It all made sense now. Why there were no records for Charles Agnew. Why all those fake articles had been posted the same day. It was all part of his cover.

"Mr. Agnew, or should I say, Detective Abbott," the other officer said, "Has video surveillance of you stealing pseudoephedrine from his classroom. You left your fingerprints all over the jar. We have enough evidence to suggest that you're cooking vertigo, Mr. West."

Barry couldn't help it. He burst out into laughter then. The two officers gave him strange looks, but Barry soon heard Joe crack too and start laughing as well.

"You," Barry choked, "You're an undercover cop."

The other two continued to give him strange looks, clearly confused by his reaction.

"Is there something funny about that, Mr. West?" Mr. Ag—Detective Abbott asked irritably.

Barry nodded and wiped a tear from his eye, too overcome by laughter to speak. Instead, Joe spoke for him.

"Grant is undercover, too," he chuckled, dropping the façade, "We work for the CCPD. We're working the same case you are."

The two officers blinked at them in shock.

"What?" the other officer asked in confusion.

"My real name is Barry Allen," Barry told him, a wide smile on his face, "I'm a CSI for the Central City Police Department."

The other two stared at him, trying to wrap their minds around what he just said.

"Prove it," Detective Abbott demanded.

Joe chuckled and pulled out his phone, quickly pulling up the CCPD website before handing it over to him. Abbott snatched the phone from his hand and looked at it. His eyebrows shot up when he looked at Barry's CCPD photo.

 _Bartholomew Allen, CSI  
2011_

Detective Abbott looked repeatedly back and forth between the photo and Barry, comparing them.

"How old are you?" he demanded then.

Barry smiled.

"I'm twenty-five," he answered.

"Twenty-five," Abbott muttered in a daze.

"Yes," Barry said boldly, "So I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me a seventeen-year-old punk."

Joe snorted and the other officer in the room laughed lightly.

"Since when do CSI's go undercover?" Detective Abbott demanded.

"Since I was the only one in my department who looked young enough to pull it off," Barry answered, "Trust me; it hasn't been too fun, especially with those detentions you gave me."

Detective Abbott sighed and gave the phone back to Joe.

"I don't believe this," he muttered angrily, "All this time…"

"I'd also appreciate it if you stopped ranting about me in the teacher's lounge," Barry chuckled, "Becky told me all you ever talk about is that Grant West punk."

"Rebecca knows?!" Abbott asked incredulously, "She's in on this, too?!"

Barry shook his head.

"She's not really in on it," he said quickly, "I had to tell her that I was undercover, though. She recognized me."

"What are you talking about?" Joe asked then, "You never told me about that. Who's Becky?"

"My exgirlfriend from high school," Barry reminded him.

"You dated Ms. Cooper?!" Abbott asked scandalously.

"Relax," Barry said, "I'm twenty-five, remember? We were in the same class."

"Barry," Joe said seriously then, "You know you can't trust her. That girl was horrible to you. After all that stuff she pulled with Vanessa Redlynn…"

"Old high school drama," Barry said dismissively, "Becky was a victim of Vanessa's lies just as much as anyone else."

"Still," Joe muttered.

Barry decided to move on from the subject then.

"So," he said, turning back to Detective Abbott, "What was with all the pseudoephedrine stuff?"

The detective smiled at him then.

"It's a decoy," he told him, "The SCPD's scientists have managed to figure out some of the ingredients in vertigo, and pseudoephedrine was one of them. It's also hard to get. I figured if anyone at the school was making vertigo, they'd be tempted to steal it, so I planted it there as bait. If you're not the dealer, then why did you steal some of it?"

"Evidence," Barry said simply, "I thought _you_ were the dealer."

All four of them laughed at their situation. Abbott sighed then.

"I really thought I had solved the case," he said disappointedly.

Barry nodded.

"I did, too," he sighed, "My captain's going to be disappointed. At least now I know I have another undercover ally in all this, though."

Detective Abbott gave him a strange look.

"Ally?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, sure," Barry said with a shrug, "We're both working the same case, and we're both undercover in the same school. Why not put our heads together?"

Abbott goggled at him.

"Maybe because we _hate_ each other," he said stiffly.

"Well, you don't always have to like your coworkers," Barry shrugged, "You don't have to like me to work with me."

Detective Abbott sighed then.

"Fine," he said stretching out his hand for Barry to shake, "Allies then."

Barry shook his hand awkwardly, considering he was still wearing handcuffs.

"Can I get these taken off now?"

* * *

Barry was a bit put out for a few days after the whole incident with Ag—with Detective Abbott. Really, Barry would probably always think of him as Agnew in his head, though.

Barry had really thought he had been getting closer to solving the case, but now it felt like he was back to square one again. His only hope was to eventually have Forrest hook him up with his dealer, but even if that happened, he'd still have to find the supplier. It was unlikely that whoever was making the stuff was also dealing it. Catching the dealer would help, but they wouldn't really pull the root of this vertigo weed until they found the supplier who was making the stuff.

Going to chemistry class was a whole new level of awkward for him now—for him _and_ Agnew. It was probably more so for the other man, who had now realized that he had been trying to teach high school chemistry to an adult with a double major in chemistry and physics this entire time.

Agnew wasn't exactly friendly towards Barry, but he seemed to at least talk to him with a little more respect now. At least, he didn't address Barry like he was a little kid now.

After the whole incident, Barry was now more determined than ever to make some progress with his vertigo case. He wanted to finally crack it. He was halfway into his third week at East Central High, and he was starting to feel very ready to be done with the whole thing. He definitely didn't want to spend an entire year undercover like Detective Abbott had.

Which was why when Forrest asked him if he was up for doing a little vertigo this afternoon, Barry agreed. Now, here he sat, in Forrest's basement with the three other boys, watching nervously as Forrest pulled out four syringes.

"Are you sure this stuff is clean?" Barry asked nervously, worried about the three kids with him, "You know, sometimes people lace street drugs with other things."

"It's safe," Forrest assured him as he started drawing up the drug, "I have a good source."

"I think I'd feel better if I knew _who_ that source was," Barry said gently.

Forrest laughed.

"I'll introduce you guys sometime," he said simply, "Once we need more V."

Barry sighed, trying hard to hide his disappointment.

"Besides," Forrest said, holding the syringe out to him with a serious look on his face, "We need to know you're cool first."

Barry nodded and shakily took the syringe from him. He had already decided ahead of time that he was going to go through with it. Really, he had no reason not to. He knew the drug wouldn't affect him, and Singh had already assured him that he wouldn't get into any legal trouble. And if it finally gained the others' full trust, then why not?

Thankfully, Barry knew perfectly well how injections worked, so he didn't fumble too much with everything. He took the rubber cord that Forrest handed him and tied it around his upper arm. He couldn't believe he was actually tying off to do drugs right now. He never in a million years would have thought he'd be doing something like this. Barry despised drugs, and with good reason. He didn't let himself think about that reason right now, though. If he did, he'd probably chicken out and not go through with it.

Barry's hands shook slightly as he tapped the syringe, getting all the air out of it first. He took a deep breath then, knowing he couldn't stall anymore. With the other three watching him, he carefully stuck the needle into a vein in his arm, his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly pushed down on the plunger.

He could feel the drug being pushed into his vein, and it made Barry want to be sick, but he had nothing to fear. His metabolism would burn through it immediately, probably before it even reached his brain. Barry took a shaky breath when he pulled the needle back out of his arm. As Barry set the now empty syringe aside, he felt dizzy with disgust over what he had just done. He felt like he couldn't breathe properly, he was so sick about it.

It wasn't until the room started to spin that Barry realized it was more than just his disgust that was causing it.

Something wasn't right.

Barry's fingers started to tingle, and the words of the other boys sounded muffled all of a sudden. Barry couldn't even understand what they were saying. He looked around him in a panic. The room looked oddly distorted now, and it was then that Barry realized.

The vertigo was affecting him.


	16. Can You Feel it, Mr Krabs?

**Warning: Drugs**

 **I use drugs for comedy in this story, but I am in no way condoning recreational drug use. It may seem funny in fiction, but in real life, it's just sad. Drugs ruin lives.**

* * *

 **Can You Feel it, Mr. Krabs?**

* * *

Barry's mind was in overdrive.

How did this work?! How the hell was vertigo affecting him?!

Drugs weren't supposed to work on Barry. Alcohol and pain killers certainly didn't, but maybe vertigo was different. Actually, now that he thought about it, it made sense. Barry had done his research on vertigo. It wasn't a depressant like alcohol. It was a _stimulant_ , and it had a certain chemical in it that inhibited the smooth endoplasmic reticulum in the liver, which in turn affected metabolism, which then impaired the liver's metabolic processing of alcohol.

No, of other drugs, not alcohol. Because of the reticulum. Or no. It had something to do with acetaldehyde. Or was it ADH? No, wait. That was alcohol again. He had taken pot. No, he had _smoked_ pot, not taken it. You don't _take_ pot. But no, it wasn't pot. What had he taken again? Vertigo. He had taken vertigo, right?

Yeah, so vertigo. It affected the liver differently. But his powers should still stop that, right? His body should burn through it.

Not if it effected the liver _before_ going into his blood stream, though. But wait. He had injected it. It was _already_ in his blood stream. But that also meant his liver should…Or was it his kidneys? Either way. It was in his brain now. His brain would take care of it. Yeah, his brain would do it.

That made perfect medical sense.

Barry smiled, feeling pretty proud of himself for figuring the whole thing out. Everything would be fine. He felt perfectly fine. _Great_ , actually! He felt like he was on top of the world!

The muscles of his face felt weird when he smiled, though. He wanted to reach up and feel his lips to see if he was really smiling or if he just thought he was, but for whatever reason, he felt like if he moved his hands, he was going to fall over. Actually, he felt like if he moved even a single muscle, something really bad was going to happen. He didn't know what, but if he moved, something awful would happen.

The other guys were moving, though. They were currently putting away their own syringes. Had they taken it, too? They must have. They said they were going to. He was just so caught up in his own rush that he hadn't seen them do it. Sure enough, when he looked at the syringes, he saw that there was no more of the yellow liquid in them anymore. They had taken it.

"Guys," Barry said, taking note of how weird his voice sounded.

It seemed like someone else was speaking because Barry couldn't really feel his lips moving.

"Guys, you _can't_ _move_ ," he said seriously, "It's bad for the environment."

The others laughed.

"Yep, he's high alright," Forrest laughed.

It sounded more like an uncontrolled giggle, though.

Barry wondered if the others were feeling as good as he was. Someone else was giggling, too, and it took Barry a moment to realize that the sound was coming from his own mouth.

"Can you feel it, Mr. Krabs?" Barry asked them, giggling hysterically.

The other three laughed, too.

"Ah, Spongebob jokes," Justin laughed, "You're cracking me up right now, Grant!"

"Yep, we picked a winner, guys," Forrest said to the other two, clapping Barry on the shoulder.

The hand on his shoulder felt weird, like it wasn't really even there, like Barry was completely detached from his body. He could feel the hand there, but he also _couldn't_ feel it. It didn't make any sense, but it was true.

"Woah, where'd that other guy go?" Michael asked suddenly, looking around.

Forrest just laughed at him.

"We're the only ones here, man," he laughed, "There _was_ no other guy."

"Oh," Michael said dumbly, a stupid grin on his face.

Barry doubled over in a fit of silent giggles. He nudged Justin and could barely get any words out of his mouth because he was laughing so hard.

"He's…" Barry choked, "He's high."

Barry couldn't get any air in his lungs, he was laughing so hard. He didn't really even know why he was laughing. It wasn't that funny. For some reason, everything just felt hilarious right now.

"Grant's got the gigs," Justin laughed, pointing a thumb at Barry, who had tears in his eyes now from laughing.

Wait.

He shouldn't be laughing right now. He had just taken vertigo, and it was actually affecting him! He should be worried right now, not laughing. Shit. He should tell someone. He should tell the captain. That was what he was supposed to do, right? He was supposed to report any drugs he took to his boss. That was the law.

Or was it a secret? Taking illegal drugs was a secret, right? Of course it was! But he had to tell. He had to tell his secret! Who did he have to tell it to again?

"Hey, guys!" Barry yelled suddenly.

He didn't know why he was yelling. He just wanted to.

"Dude, we're right here," Forrest giggled, "You don't have to shout."

"Sorry," Barry laughed, then lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper, "I have to tell you something. A secret."

"Go for it," Forrest said, but he wasn't even looking at Barry.

He seemed more interested in the pattern on the basement wallpaper, looking at it in fascination as if it were a work of art.

What was Barry's secret again? He had something he really needed to tell them, but he couldn't remember what, only that it was extremely important that he tell them. It was the law, after all. Oh, yeah. Now he remembered.

"I'm the Flash," Barry whispered to them dramatically.

The other three stared at him for a moment.

And then they burst out laughing.

"Good one, Grant," Michael choked, still giggling.

"It's true," Barry insisted, "I'll prove it!"

Without a second thought, Barry flashed to the other side of the room, paused, and then flashed back in front of them, swaying slightly as he regained his balance. The other three stared at him, their eyes wide.

"Woah," Justin said, clutching his head, "I haven't hallucinated from this stuff in a while. It's super trippy."

Barry laughed hysterically as Justin lowered himself down onto the basement couch. Michael laughed as he moved to sit down next to him but ended up toppling onto the floor, causing the other three to laugh and point at him.

Barry could see why these kids did this now. He still didn't agree with it, but he had to admit. This was _fun_.

As Barry was sitting down in a chair next to the couch, he suddenly felt himself vibrating. He felt like he was losing control of his powers! It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't him. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. Barry clumsily pulled it out and squinted at the screen, blinking the blurriness out of his vision a bit before he was able to read the caller ID. When he finally did, his face broke out into a grin.

"Shhhhhhhh!" Barry shushed the others seriously so they'd stop giggling, "Guys, SHUT UP! I'm getting a call from Dr. Harrison Wells."

The other three laughed.

"Oh, okay, Grant," Justin giggled, "Take your call. I have to call Dr. Phil in a little bit, myself."

Barry had to choke down his laughter as he hit accept on the call.

"H-hello?" he choked into the phone, barely suppressing his laughter.

"Mr. Allen," Dr. Wells said seriously, "I've been trying to call you."

"You've been trying to call me _what_?" Barry asked him, snorting into the phone at his own joke.

The other man paused on the other side of the phone for a moment.

"Are you…?" he faltered, "Mr. Allen, are you _drunk_?!"

"Nooooo," Barry said slowly, barely suppressing his laughter, "Maybe….Yes. Well, sort of. No, not really. I'm not drunk. No. That's my final answer, Dr. Phil."

"You sound impaired, Mr. Allen," Wells said seriously.

Barry snorted.

"And you sound like you could use a drink, Harry," he retorted.

There was a long pause on the other side of the phone.

"Harry?" Dr. Wells finally said in a confused voice.

"Yeah," Barry giggled, "Don't you get tired of all the _formalities_ all the time? Dr. Wells. Mr. Allen. It's all really stupid, if you think about it. We're buddies, aren't we?"

Dr. Wells sighed.

"Barry, I think you should come into STAR Labs and let Caitlin take a look at you," he said seriously, "I don't know what you've been ingesting, but you don't sound like yourself."

"I don't need to see Caitlin," Barry said stubbornly, "I feel completely fine. I feel great."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," Dr. Wells sighed, "Can you tell me where you are, Barry? I'll send Cisco to go get you. You really should—"

Barry pressed end on the call then. He really didn't feel like getting nagged by the doctor right now. A second later, his eyes widened as he stared at his phone.

"Woah," he said to himself, "I just hung up on Dr. Wells."

* * *

"Hello?" Dr. Wells said into the phone, "Barry, are you still there?"

"What's going on?" Caitlin asked him as she and Cisco entered the cortex.

"I just called Barry to ask him if he could come train today," Dr. Wells told them, "He just hung up on me."

Cisco and Caitlin both gave him confused looks.

"Barry hung up on you?" Cisco asked in confusion.

"He seemed impaired," Wells told them seriously, "I think he's been drinking."

Cisco and Caitlin both stared at him.

"We're talking about Barry _Allen_ , right?" Cisco asked in confusion, before looking at his watch, "It's only three o'clock in the afternoon. Why is he even…? Hang on. How can he be impaired? Alcohol has no effect on him."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Dr. Wells said seriously, "But he seemed very intoxicated. I think we had better find Mr. Allen before he hurts himself or does something he'll regret."

* * *

Barry looked blearily around the room. He didn't know how much time had passed, but it must have been a while because the others were passed out now, Forrest and Justin both sitting upright on the couch, and Michael on the floor. Barry laughed every time he looked at Forrest's face. He had been the first to pass out, and his face was now covered in…inappropriate graffiti. Barry just hoped they hadn't used a sharpie. He couldn't really remember.

For a while, Barry had been hit by a wave of exhaustion like the others, but now he seemed to be bouncing back from it, getting a second wind, no doubt because of his powers. He was still high, but he now felt like he was bursting with energy. And now he was bored. He definitely didn't feel like just sitting here by himself in Forrest's basement.

So he left.

Running while on vertigo probably wasn't the greatest idea he had ever had. It was called vertigo for a reason, and Barry found that out fairly quickly. By the time he got back to Joe's house, he was covered in scrapes and bruises from all the times he had wiped out and from all the buildings he had run into. Thankfully he hadn't run into a car. That would have been a real nightmare.

Time passed in a blur while Barry was at the house. He couldn't really remember everything he did in that time. He stumbled around the house for a bit, going in multiple rooms, and he was pretty sure he even went outside at some point, running out to the mailbox for no apparent reason. Barry eventually made his way upstairs to his room. It wasn't until he stumbled his way into the room that he realized how different it looked. It took him several whole minutes of just standing there to realize it was _Joe's_ room, not his.

Within a few minutes, Barry found himself standing in front of Joe's full-length mirror, trying on all of Joe's hats, doing imitations of Joe to himself in the mirror and laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"You're late, Barry," he said in a deep Joe voice, "Stop rambling, Barry. Go process the evidence, Barry. Stop being so smart, _Barry_."

Barry laughed as he walked away from the mirror, still wearing one of Joe's hats.

As he finally made his way into his own room, he suddenly made an impulsive decision, whipping out his phone. He was going to give Joe a piece of his mind. Barry quickly dialed the number and eagerly held the phone to his ear, swaying slightly where he stood, waiting for Joe to pick up. Finally, he did.

"Hey, Bar," Joe answered, "I just left the precinct, so I'll be home in a minute. Can you wait a few—?"

"Joe, you yell at me a _lot_ ," Barry said seriously, cutting him off, "I don't like it."

There was a pause on the other side of the phone.

"What?" Joe said in confusion.

"I said you yell at me a lot, and I don't like it," Barry repeated in a dead-serious voice.

Joe paused again as he took in Barry's words.

"What are you _talking_ about, Bar?" he asked incredulously.

"I just want you to be _nice_ to me," Barry said in anguish, "I get that tough love is your thing, but some positive reinforcement sometimes would be nice, too. All you do is yell at me."

There was dead silence on the phone for the longest time before Joe finally spoke, his voice laced with confusion.

"Barry, where is this _coming_ from?" he asked, "Did I _do_ something to upset you?"

"No, I just remembered it," Barry said childishly before hanging up the phone.

He tossed the phone onto his bed with a sigh, his happy bubble now burst. Barry wasn't going to let it weigh him down, though. He didn't ever let anything get him down, and he especially wasn't going to now.

He was having too much fun.

* * *

Joe looked as his phone in utter confusion as he drove. Barry had hung up before Joe could ask him again to clarify what he was talking about. It had been a really strange conversation. Joe was only just leaving the precinct now, so it would be a good ten minutes or so before he got home and could ask Barry what had him so upset.

Joe _had_ to have done something to upset him. Barry wouldn't just call and say those things out of the blue like that unless something more specific was bothering him. Joe was so confused.

Yeah, maybe he was a bit hard on Barry sometimes, and he could definitely give him a little more praise every now and then, but something more had to be going on here. Barry wouldn't have gone out of his way to call him just to say that unless Joe had done something to really upset him.

Joe really didn't have the slightest clue what that could be, but he supposed he would find out when he got home.

* * *

Barry sighed and sat on his bed, getting bored. He had been listening to music for almost a good ten minutes now, and although it had lifted his mood, Barry couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. What was he doing? Why was he feeling like this? This wasn't normal. _He_ wasn't normal right now, and Barry wracked his brain to figure out why.

It all came rushing back to him then. Hanging out with the guys. The needles. The vertigo.

He had taken vertigo. He was high right now.

Barry had the nagging feeling like he was forgetting something important. Something he was supposed to do. And he had the feeling that whatever it was, it had something to do with vertigo.

It struck him then. He had to go talk to Singh. He had to report it to him.

* * *

Joe was almost home when he suddenly saw a flash of light go past him, and he knew immediately that it was Barry. Barry must have been more upset than Joe had originally thought if he was avoiding him like this. Joe couldn't be entirely sure where Barry was going, but he was headed in the direction of the CCPD, where Joe had just come from.

With a sigh, Joe turned around to head back to work. Something very weird was going on here.

* * *

David Singh was still disappointed Barry's lead had turned out to be a dead end. Still, he was impressed Barry had managed to uncover another officer in disguise. It said a lot about how seriously Barry was taking the case. He was clearly paying attention to his surroundings and actively trying to find the dealer. Singh had been somewhat unsure about all of this at first. Really, he had only picked Barry to go undercover because of his young appearance, but now he was starting to realize that Barry's dedication and forensic-oriented attention to detail was perhaps even more valuable to the mission than any of his detectives' skills would have been.

He was surprised, to say the least. He hadn't been sure if Barry could pull it off. He didn't seem like the deceptive type, and Singh hadn't been sure if the kid could handle the pressure of a case like this, but Barry had continuously surprised him with his ability to work undercover.

The only thing that worried Singh was Barry's dedication to the case. Barry seemed a little _too_ determined to solve it. The kid had always been weird about all of his cases. Nothing bothered the CSI more than an unsolved case. Singh often wondered if Barry's family history had something to do with that. It was clearly why Barry was in forensics in the first place.

Really, it was both good and bad. It was good because Barry always took his job very seriously and worked hard to solve every case assigned to him. He sympathized with the victims and showed a level of empathy for them that some of Singh's best and most sensitive detectives weren't capable of. It was bad, though, because Barry sometimes got a little _too_ obsessed with his cases. They became personal for him, and he often became too emotionally invested. Barry always struggled to distance himself from a case, and now Singh had assigned him one that required him to completely immerse himself in the middle of everything.

Singh could tell Barry was already sucked in. He was already too emotionally invested, and that, combined with Barry's unhealthy need to never let anyone down, had Singh a little concerned. After Barry's theory about Agnew had turned out to be a dead end, Singh was worried Barry would do anything and everything to crack the case. He worried to think about what Barry might do out of his dedication to the case, what Barry would feel _obligated_ to do.

The captain looked up from his paperwork when he heard a knock on his office door. Several knocks, actually, all in a loud, obnoxious rhythm.

"Come in," he called in irritation.

Singh was surprised when the door flew open and a grinning Barry Allen walked in.

"Allen," he said, setting his papers aside, "What can I do for you? Did you find some new information?"

"No," Barry said simply, plopping down in the chair across from Singh, a wide smile still on his face.

He looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.

"I have to tell you something," he said in a dramatic whisper then, his expression going from euphoric to serious within a second, "You're not going to like it."

"What is it?" Singh asked urgently, "Was your identity compromised?"

Barry shook his head frantically, to the point of it being excessive. Singh gave him a strange look.

"No, my identity's A-okay," he said with a wink, "Don't start freaking out on me."

Singh frowned at him.

"I'm not 'freaking out,'" he said seriously, "Now, are you going to say what you came here to tell me or not, Allen?"

"Okay," Barry said, straightening up in his chair, "So it's like this: I wasn't going to do it, even though you said I could. I was going to try to get through this assignment without doing it, but I sort of ran out of options and it just happened."

"Allen, what are you _talking_ about?" Singh asked impatiently.

"Hang on, hang on," Barry said in a placating voice that was borderline condescending, "See, there you go freaking out again."

" _Allen_!" Singh snapped, "Get to the point!"

"Geez," Barry said raising his eyebrows, "Has anyone ever told you you could benefit from anger management?"

Singh's eyes widened. What the hell was wrong with the kid?! Had he forgotten whom he was talking to?! Singh took a deep breath, trying to reign in his anger and frustration.

"Allen, did you come in here just to infuriate me, or did you actually have something you needed to tell me?" he asked irritably, trying to keep the volume of his voice in check.

"I have something to tell you," Barry said, his eyes wide, "And it's _very_ important."

"Well, out with it then!" Singh shouted, his voice rising along with his blood pressure.

Barry had angered him in the past, but God, it almost felt like the kid was _trying_ to upset him right now.

"Okay," Barry said straightening up again, "So, I wasn't going to do it, and then I did, and I didn't think it would affect me like this, but it did. Now I had to come to you because it's the law, and I don't want to break the law. I work for law enforcement after all, so it would be pretty fucked up of me to go and break the law…"

Singh stared as Barry continued to ramble, talking in circles and not making a lick of sense. Something was really off about him. For one thing, Singh wasn't sure if he had ever heard the kid curse before, especially not so casually. And for another, after taking a closer look at him, Singh could see that Barry was sweating, and his arms had scrapes and bruises all over them. What the hell had happened to him?!

"Barry," Singh said seriously, cutting off his incoherent rant, "Are you okay?"

Barry grinned at him.

"I feel great!" he said and then broke into a fit of giggles.

And that's when Singh saw it.

In an instant, Singh stood up and walked around the desk to get a closer look at Barry's face. He reached out and quickly used two fingers to open one of Barry's eyes to get a closer look at it. Barry's pupils were blown wide as saucers. Singh pulled his hand back in shock.

"Allen, are you…? Are you _high_?!"

Barry nodded enthusiastically.

"As a kite," he answered with a giggle, "That's what I came to tell you, Captain Sparrow…because it's the law."

"Oh, Barry," Singh sighed, leaning back against his desk with a twisting feeling in his stomach.

This was exactly what he had been afraid of. Barry had always gone the extra mile with every case he was involved in. Singh should have predicted this would happen to his CSI. He should have never told him he was allowed to take vertigo.

"Allen, I hope you didn't feel… _pressured_ to do this," he said somberly.

"I didn't feel pressured," Barry laughed, "Well, maybe a little. There was a lot of peer pressure involved, and then of course there was a lot of pressure from you, but don't worry. I didn't feel pressured."

"Barry, you literally just said that you _did_ ," Singh sighed, "I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you had to take vertigo. I would have understood if you had just blown your cover instead."

Barry shook his head.

"I never back out on a case," he said firmly, "All my time as a CSI, I've never had a cold case, and I wasn't going to let more kids overdose on vertigo. This was worth it. The kids might trust me enough to let me meet their dealer now. Besides, I feel _amazing_!"

Singh frowned as Barry broke out into fresh peals of laughter. He knew this was just the drugs talking, and he knew Barry was probably going to be regretting this later when he sobered up. For now, though, he was just enjoying the trip.

"Barry, I'm going to take you to go see a doctor," the captain sighed, "You should have someone look at you, and maybe they can give you something to help reverse it. I'll drive you to the ER."

"I can't see a doctor," Barry said seriously, "I'm a weirdo. I can't see normal doctors."

Singh frowned at him.

"Why not?" he asked, "What's the problem?"

"I just told you," Barry said, "I'm a weirdo. The lightning messed me up, and now I need to see a special doctor. The particle accelerator explosion scrambled my DNA."

Singh's eyes widened as he processed Barry's words, turning them over in his mind.

"Barry," he said seriously, "Are you telling me…that you're a _metahuman_?!"

* * *

 **Disclaimer: "** ** _You've been trying to call me what?"_** **—Kyle XY**


	17. Barry, Are You Okay?

**Warning: Drugs**

 **Once again, I'm not condoning drug use. Drugs are for losers.**

* * *

 **Barry, Are You Okay?**

* * *

"Barry," Singh said seriously, "Are you telling me…that you're a _metahuman_?!"

Barry nodded with a huge grin on his face.

"I'm not evil, though," he said quickly, "Don't freak out."

Singh took a deep breath, trying to process this new information. He felt somewhat guilty. If Barry had kept this from him for so long, it was probably something he wouldn't normally want to tell him. Singh was extremely tempted to ask Barry what abilities he had, but doing that, when Barry was in this state of mind, would feel very wrong. He would ask Barry later when he had the vertigo out of his system.

Their conversation was interrupted then, when there was a loud knock on the door. Singh, who was standing right by it, opened the door cautiously, not wanting to let any of Barry's coworkers see him in his state. The least he could do was preserve the kid's dignity. Singh was relieved of this worry when he saw who was on the other side of the door.

"Barry," Joe said, stepping into the room, "I've called you _six_ _times_! You want to tell me what's going on? Why did you call me and then hang up like that?"

Barry frowned at him.

"I didn't call you," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Joe blinked at him.

"Yes, you did," he insisted, "You called me twenty minutes ago just to tell me to stop yelling at you. What the hell was that about?"

"Oh yeah," Barry laughed, "I remember now. _That_ phone call."

Joe gave Barry a strange look, his confusion plainly evident on his face. He was just as confused by Barry's behavior as Singh had been. The captain put a hand on Joe's shoulder then and whispered to him.

"Barry's high, Joe," he whispered, "He took vertigo."

Joe's eyes widened.

"What?" he said in shock, "But, how is it…? It shouldn't be…"

Joe didn't finish his sentence, though.

"This is my fault, Joe," Singh said guiltily, "I told him he didn't have to take it if he didn't want to, but I also told him he could if he didn't want to blow his cover. I think he felt like he _had_ to do it because of all the pressure I've been putting on him over this case."

Joe's mouth was still hanging open in shock as Singh explained it to him. He looked over at Barry then, who was currently holding up his hand in front of him, pinching his thumb and index finger together repeatedly, pretending to be crushing Singh's head.

"I'll take him to his doctor," Joe sighed then, "She'll get him sorted out."

Singh nodded. He was tempted to tell Joe about what Barry had revealed to him, but he decided against it. What if Barry had kept it a secret from _Joe,_ too? Singh didn't want to discuss it with Joe until he had discussed it with Barry first. There wasn't exactly a specific protocol for finding out one of your employees was a metahuman. It was a delicate situation that needed to be handled carefully and confidentially.

"You know," Barry said, interrupting their whispered exchange, " _You_ yell at me a lot, too."

He was looking at Singh, who then raised his eyebrows as Barry continued, launching into a long rant.

"I'm _really_ _good_ at my job, you know," he said seriously, "And I don't think you _appreciate_ me very much. I'm one of the best CSI's in the _state,_ and you treat me like I'm a clueless intern or something. I work harder than any other CSI in this city, taking on extra cases that, most of the time, you don't even _know_ about. Did you know that Southworth doesn't even authenticate reports anymore?! He's seriously too lazy to simply _sign off_ on the cases I've finished, and he has me doing it myself, which is probably not even legal.

"And CSI Turner, from precinct four, has been sending me most of his cases now because he doesn't know what he's _doing_. I'm doing the work of three CSIs most of the time, and then you always come barging into my lab to nag me like you're my dad or something. Even when I do everything right, you still find something to berate me about. It kind of pisses me off, really."

Singh stared at Barry, who was breathing heavily after his rant and still wore a dead serious expression on his face. Joe, however, was looking at the floor, obviously mortified and afraid of how Singh was going to react.

Singh, however, just laughed, knowing Barry wouldn't normally be saying these things.

"Well, tell me how you really feel, Allen," he joked, looking at Barry in amusement, "Anything else you wanted to add?"

"Oh, and you're a dick," Barry said simply, "…sir."

Barry broke out into a fit of giggles then.

"God," he laughed, clutching his stomach, "I've always wanted to say that!"

Singh just shook his head at him and then turned to Joe.

"You should get him to a doctor as soon as possible," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I'll find the forms Barry's doctor will have to fill out for this incident."

Joe nodded and then grabbed Barry's arm, pulling him towards the door.

"Where are we going?" Barry asked him curiously, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"We're going to go see Caitlin," Joe told him, "She's going to help you."

"I'm not sick, though," Barry said seriously, "And I'm not hurt."

"She still has to look at you, Bar," Joe insisted, pushing Barry towards the door.

"But I wanted to yell at Singh some more," Barry pouted.

Singh laughed.

"You can yell at me tomorrow, Allen," he joked, "If you can find the nerve to when you're sober. In the meantime, just try not to get into any trouble."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Barry said, grinning as he saluted him.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Joe chuckled before pushing Barry out the door, "Sorry about all this, David."

Singh shook his head.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "And make sure Barry knows I'm not angry with him. I'm only upset because I didn't want him to feel like he _had_ to take the vertigo."

Joe nodded and gave the captain a grateful smile before closing the door behind him.

Singh sighed as he sank back down in his desk chair, his mind reeling over everything his high CSI had just said, not just the shocking fact that Barry Allen was a metahuman, but also Barry's rant. Singh wondered just how long Barry had been holding all that in. He and Barry were in for a serious discussion later, but that wouldn't be taking place today.

He would wait until Barry was sober.

* * *

Joe couldn't help but be slightly amused as he drove to STAR Labs with Barry in the passenger seat. Barry seemed like he was fine—physically, at least. Knowing that he was going to be okay allowed Joe to feel a little amused by the whole situation.

Barry was currently looking at his hands as Joe drove. He seemed to be completely fascinated by them, turning them over and looking at them at different angles.

"Fingers are weird," Barry blurted out, staring at his hands, "Don't you think fingers are weird, Joe?"

Joe chuckled.

"Yeah, they are, Barry," he agreed in amusement.

That was all Barry said the whole car ride.

When they pulled into the STAR Labs parking lot, Joe opened Barry's door for him and helped him out of the vehicle. Barry kept blinking repeatedly against the daylight. It was only five o'clock, and it was still light outside.

"Come on, Barry," Joe chuckled, "Let's just get you in the building."

Barry nodded, and they started walking towards the lab's front door. Barry's face was screwed up in concentration as he walked, looking like he was deep in thought.

"What you thinking about right now, Bar?" Joe asked in amusement.

Barry really did look like he was thinking hard about something. He looked over at Joe with a frown on his face.

"I was just thinking, why is it called a building when it's already built?"

Joe laughed.

"I don't know, Bar," he chuckled.

When they got inside the lab and made their way to the cortex, it was to find the rest of Team Flash frantically working at the computers.

"Cisco already checked the house," Caitlin was saying urgently to Wells, "He must have left his phone there when he left. I don't know where he could have gone, though. We have no way to trace him without his phone on him."

"There's no need," Joe said as he and Barry entered the cortex, "He's with me."

"Barry," Cisco said, standing up from his chair, "We've been trying to find you for _two hours_! What the hell is going on, man?"

"It's a long story," Joe answered instead of Barry, "Caitlin, you should probably take a look at him."

Caitlin rushed over to Barry and shined a light in his eyes, noticing immediately how dilated his pupils were.

"What have you been _ingesting_ , Barry?" she demanded angrily, "This is definitely _not_ from alcohol!"

Barry grinned at her.

"Forrest made me try V," he said simply, "So that he knew I was cool."

The rest of them all looked around at each other in confusion. Joe sighed then.

"I suppose I have no choice but to explain at this point," he said.

"Please do," Dr. Wells said seriously, looking back and forth between him and Barry.

"Barry's been undercover," Joe explained, "He's been working undercover in a drug sting for the captain."

"Barry's been working undercover?" Cisco asked, "Dude, that is so cool!"

"JOE, STOP!" Barry screamed suddenly, causing all of them to jump a mile and Caitlin to even cover her ears, "What are you doing?! You're blowing my cover!"

"Relax, Bar," Joe said, laughing at Barry's lack of subtlety, "It's just your friends. We can trust them."

"Just don't tell them that I'm going to high school," Barry pleaded, "They're just going to laugh at me!"

Cisco burst into laughter then.

"Man, you're undercover in a _high school_?" he laughed, "Dude, that is so _not_ cool! That's hilarious!"

Barry spun on Joe then.

"You told him?!" he demanded angrily.

"No, Barry," Joe chuckled, " _You_ just did."

Before Barry could reply, Caitlin stepped forward.

"So, are you going to explain to us why Barry is clearly _high_?" she asked Joe, crossing her arms.

Joe sighed.

"He was pressured by the kids," he explained, "He took the drug to gain their trust."

"But why is it affecting him?" Caitlin asked in confusion, "What drug is this, exactly?"

"Vertigo," Joe replied, "And I have no idea why it's affecting him. I'm just as baffled as you are."

"Woah, guys, I just realized something," Barry whispered seriously, his eyes going wide and dead serious, "Seriously, guys. It's going to blow your minds."

"What?" Caitlin asked curiously.

"Sand," Barry said dramatically, " _Sand._ Do you think it's called sand because it's between the sea and land?"

They all stared at him.

"What?" Caitlin asked.

Barry just shook his head, his expression still dead serious.

"God, I just blew my own mind just now," he said, as if he had just cracked Einstein's puzzle.

Cisco snorted.

"Yeah, we all know how _blown_ your mind is right now, Barry," he laughed.

Caitlin, however, didn't laugh as she thought over the situation.

"We haven't ever really tested the effects of stimulants on Barry," she said slowly, "I just assumed that since depressants like alcohol and pain killers didn't have any effect, then stimulants wouldn't either. I didn't even think to test it."

"So stimulants _can_ affect him?" Cisco asked curiously.

Caitlin nodded.

"It would appear so," she said seriously.

"That explains why Barry's still addicted to getting his coffee fix in the morning," Joe chuckled.

Caitlin nodded slowly.

"Actually, this makes a lot of sense," she said thoughtfully, "Before, I would have assumed his metabolism would burn right through it, but there's a good chance the stimulants in his system are reacting with the speed force, causing a synergistic effect."

"And what does that mean in English?" Joe asked.

Caitlin sighed and looked over at Barry who was now sitting and staring at a blank computer screen as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"It means his speed force actually is causing the drug to affect him _more_ ," she summarized.

"I wonder if the stimulants can make him _faster_ ," Dr. Wells added as an afterthought.

"Dude, that's not a touch screen," Cisco laughed, when Barry started tapping on the computer screen.

Barry quickly got bored and turned his chair away from the computer then. His eyes landed on Caitlin and his eyebrows suddenly furrowed as he looked at her like she was some sort of alien.

"Caitlin, why are you so white?" he blurted.

Caitlin was completely taken aback by the question.

"W-what?"

"You look really pale," Barry said gravely, "Like…you might have a _disease_ or something."

Cisco snorted.

"Dude, please keep talking," he laughed, as Caitlin blushed, "This is too funny!"

"This is _not_ funny," Caitlin snapped.

" _I_ think it's pretty funny," Barry laughed.

"Of course you do, Barry," Caitlin sighed, "You're _high_. You think _everything's_ funny right now."

Barry snorted.

"True," he giggled.

Caitlin sighed.

"We have to reverse this," she said seriously.

"Why?" Cisco laughed, "The drug should wear off on its own eventually, and Barry doesn't seem to mind."

"Cisco, look at his arms!" Caitlin said seriously, "He clearly tried to run, and from the looks of those cuts and bruises, it didn't go too well."

"Oh," Cisco said, the smile falling from his face when he looked at Barry's arms for the first time, "Shit, that's no good."

"Barry, are you okay?" Caitlin asked seriously, looking him over for other injuries.

"No, Caitlin," Barry said seriously.

Caitlin raised her eyebrows at him.

"You're _not_ okay?" she asked in concern, "What's wrong?! What hurts?!"

Barry shook his head.

"No, that's not what I meant," he said goofily, "I mean, no, you got the words wrong."

Caitlin frowned at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked in confusion.

"I think you meant to say ' _Annie_ , are you okay?'" he told her seriously.

Caitlin gave him a strange look.

"Since when is your name Annie?" she asked, with just a slight hint of amusement.

"I think he means the song," Cisco laughed, "The Michael Jackson song."

Joe laughed as Barry then started to hum the tune of **Smooth Criminal** , spinning in circles in his chair.

"Well, we should probably try to reverse this if we can," Joe said, "I don't want him to run off on us or do something else he's going to regret. He already yelled at the captain before I took him here."

Cisco's eyes widened.

"He yelled at your boss?" he laughed.

Joe nodded.

"God only knows what else Barry said to him," Joe chuckled, "I just hope he didn't call Iris or anyone else. She knows he's undercover, though, so I guess that wouldn't have been a big deal."

"I _did_ call Iris," Barry said then.

They all looked at him.

"You _did_?" Joe asked him, a small smile forming on his face, "Oh, God. What'd you say to her?"

Joe shouldn't be smiling right now. He knew Barry had been harboring feelings for his daughter for years, even if Barry had never admitted to it, yet. He had been waiting for years for Barry to confess his feelings, but he definitely didn't want it to happen like _this_. And then of course, there was always his identity as the Flash. God, this would be a terrible way for Iris to find out about _that_.

"I sent her an emoji," Barry laughed.

"So, you texted her then," Cisco corrected, "You didn't call her."

"That's what I said," Barry laughed, rolling his eyes.

Cisco pulled out Barry's phone then—he had grabbed it when he stopped by the house—and unlocked it.

"Hey!" Barry shouted, "How did you know my passcode?!"

"I'm a tech wiz, dude," Cisco chuckled, scrolling through Barry's phone.

Cisco burst into laughter then.

"Oh my God!" he choked, handing Joe the phone, "Look what he sent her!"

 **Barry Allen:**

44444444444444444444  
44444444444444444444  
44444444shit emoji

 **Iris West:**

?

 **Barry Allen:**

;)

"Oh my God," Joe laughed, "Iris must be so confused!"

"Dude," Cisco laughed at Barry, "You didn't even send an emoji! You just typed 'shit emoji!'"

Barry took the phone from him and looked at it.

"Oh," he said dumbly.

He started typing then.

"What are you doing?" Caitlin asked him.

"I'm fixing it," Barry answered simply.

Joe moved to take the phone from him, but it was too late. Barry had already hit send.

"Barry," Joe groaned, looking at the phone, "You didn't send that to Iris. You just sent a shit emoji to _Oliver Queen_!"

"Whoops," Barry giggled, "Well, at least it has a smiley face on it."

Cisco snorted.

"Okay, no more cellular devices for Barry then," he laughed.

"I'm going to start working on an antidote," Caitlin said seriously.

"I don't think there's a need," Joe said slowly, looking at Barry who was now starting to yawn, "I think he's finally starting to crash."

Caitlin sighed.

"Alright then," she said slowly, giving Barry a thoughtful look, "We'll just let him sleep it off then."

"Come on, Barry," Joe said, pulling him from his seat, "Let's go lay down in the med bay."

Barry yanked his arm from Joe's grasp.

"I don't want to lay down," he said seriously, "I'm not tired. I'm _hungry_."

Barry burst into laughter then.

"I have an idea!" he yelled, laughing hysterically, "I should put on the Flash suit and run through the Big Belly Burger drive through! I want to see how they'll react."

"Barry, that's a terrible idea," Cisco laughed.

"How about this?" Joe said to Barry, "You take a small nap, and I'll go grab us some Big Belly Burger for when you wake up."

"Fine," Barry sighed, "Just make sure you get me extra fries."

"Okay, Bar," Joe chuckled as he led Barry to the med bay.

Barry climbed into bed with his shoes still on. Cisco chuckled and pulled them off for him. Barry didn't seem very coordinated at the moment.

Cisco was just glad that Barry didn't ask to be tucked in.


	18. V Gilves Mee da Movees

**There's a YouTube video that goes with this chapter. I have it bolded in the text when you get to it. Just search that, plus Grant Gustin, and you should find the video, or you can find it through my profile. You** ** _have_** **to watch it! Not watching it is not even an option. I promise, you will not regret it.**

* * *

 **V Gilves Mee da Moveees**

* * *

Oliver's feet hit the ground with a thud as he dropped down from his salmon ladder. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face, thinking he should probably suit up and go on patrol soon.

"Anything happening right now?" he asked the blonde behind the desk.

Felicity looked up from her computer and shook her head.

"The city's quiet," she said simply.

Just then Oliver's phone buzzed. Before he could walk over to the desk to check it, Felicity picked it up and looked at it. Her brow furrowed instantly, which was never a good sign.

"What is it?" Oliver asked urgently.

"It's a text from Barry," she said, handing over his phone, "From ten minutes ago."

She hadn't unlocked it to read the text. She could if she wanted to, but Oliver had already given her a stern talking to about hacking into his personal devices without good reason.

Oliver quickly entered his passcode to unlock the phone just as Dig was walking into the room. Barry hardly ever texted him, so when he did, it was usually for something important. Oliver frowned when he looked at the message, though.

"What is it?" Dig asked him curiously.

Oliver handed him the phone.

"He sent me a picture of pudding," Oliver said in confusion.

Dig snorted and shook his head when saw the text for himself.

"That's not pudding, Oliver," he laughed, "It's shit."

Oliver frowned at him.

"What?"

"It's the shit emoji," Dig explained.

Oliver took the phone back and stared at it.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, "Why would Barry send me a pile of shit with a smiley face on it?! What does the shit emoji even _mean_?! Is it code for something?"

"I don't think so," Felicity giggled as she looked at the phone, "I don't think there's any meaning behind it. It's simply a shit emoji."

"Why the hell would Barry send me that?!" Oliver asked, crossing his arms.

Felicity shrugged.

"Only one way to find out," she said, tapping on the phone screen.

She held the phone up to her ear then, clearly calling Barry. Oliver held his hand out to her then, deciding he'd talk to Barry himself. Felicity nodded and handed it to him.

"Hello?" someone answered when they picked up.

"Who is this?" Oliver asked, knowing immediately that it wasn't Barry who had answered.

"It's Cisco," the engineer replied.

Oliver was just going to ask him to put Barry on the phone, but then he heard a shout in the background.

"Cisco, that's _my_ phone!" he heard Barry yell.

"Dude, I'm not giving it back to you until you calm down," Cisco replied, "Just go to sleep already."

"I will _NOT_ go to sleep!" Barry screamed, loud enough for Oliver to hold the phone away from his ear.

"What the hell is going on there?!" Oliver demanded.

"Hang on a second," Cisco said, and Oliver heard the rustling of the phone being set down.

He could then hear Cisco talking in the background.

"Barry, come on," Cisco said, "You need to go back to b—are you serious?! …..Caitlin, can you come help me? He just purposely went limp so I couldn't drag him back to bed!"

"Just let him sleep on the floor then," Caitlin sighed, "He weighs a hundred-and-eighty-five pounds. I'm not going to break my back dragging Barry's dead weight all the way back to the med bay. If he wants to stay there, then let him."

"Okay," Cisco said simply, "Have fun sleeping on the floor, man."

"I _will_ ," Barry said defiantly.

Oliver then heard the rustling of the phone being picked up again.

"Cisco, what the hell is going on?!" Oliver demanded before Cisco could even say anything, "Why is Barry drunk?!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw Felicity and Diggle give him questioning looks.

"He's not drunk," Cisco said seriously into the phone, "He's high."

Oliver didn't say anything at first as he processed these words. Barry Allen was high?

" _What_?" was all Oliver could say as a response.

Cisco sighed.

"It's kind of a long story," he said, "Barry hasn't really even fully explained everything to us yet. He's not really… _in the state of mind_ to. He didn't mean to get high. It was kind of an accident. The whole thing was kind of funny until now. Now, he's just arguing with us."

"What did he take?" Oliver asked seriously, not finding the whole thing 'funny' at all.

"Vertigo," Cisco answered.

" _Vertigo_?!" Oliver shouted into the phone, "Barry took _vertigo_?! After he's seen firsthand how it affects people?! He was here in Starling, Cisco. He saw how harmful it can be! What the hell is Barry _thinking_?! He's supposed to be responsible! He's supposed to be a hero, and he's messing around with _vertigo_?!"

"Woah," Cisco said, "Dude, calm down. I said it was an accident, didn't I? He didn't know it was going to actually _affect_ him."

"Why was he shooting up vertigo _at all_?" Oliver demanded.

"His work," Cisco replied simply, "Barry's supposedly been working undercover to catch some new vertigo dealer here in Central City."

"Central City doesn't have vertigo," Oliver said in confusion, "I thought it was only in Starling."

"It spread," Cisco said seriously, "And now I guess Barry's been undercover for the last three weeks without telling us. Although, I don't really blame him, considering the details of his assignment. I haven't even told you the best part yet!"

"CISCO, SHUT UP!" Barry yelled in the background, "It's not funny! If you tell Oliver I'm in high school, I'm going to tell everyone about the time I caught you trying on my suit!"

"Dude," Cisco groaned, "You seriously just shouted that for everyone to hear!"

Sure enough, Oliver could hear Caitlin laughing in the background.

"Cisco," Oliver said impatiently, having heard enough of Team Flash's current shit show, "I have to go now. I'm going to go on my patrol because I'm at least _responsible_ when it comes to watching over my city. Tell Barry to call me when he's sober. I want to have a word with him."

"S-sure," Cisco replied seriously.

As an afterthought, Oliver then added, "And tell him not to send me a shit emoji ever again."

* * *

Barry's head felt like it was split in two, and his eyelids felt like they were made of lead when he tried to open them. An obnoxious, shrill tune was currently assaulting his eardrums. Barry groaned in irritation, turning over in bed and covering his ears to muffle the sound.

His eyes suddenly snapped open.

This wasn't his bed. He was in the STAR Labs med bay.

Barry shot up in bed and looked around blearily.

"Dude," Cisco groaned, "Can you please stay asleep for at least five _minutes_?!"

"Wha'appened?" Barry slurred, clutching his head, "Did I get hurt?"

Cisco raised his eyebrows at him.

"Hey, Caitlin," he called to the doctor, "I think he's starting to come down from his trip."

Barry frowned at him as the doctor raced over to the bed, shining a light in his eyes.

"What trip?" he asked in confusion, "Where'd I go?"

Barry's eyes widened as it all came rushing back to him then.

"Oh my God," he breathed, clutching the sides of his head as the blurry memories came rushing back to him, " _Oh my God_! Cisco, _please_ tell me I was dreaming when I was yelling at my boss!"

Cisco snorted.

"Sorry, man," he chuckled, "That all really happened."

"Oh my God," Barry choked, burying his face in his hands.

"How are you feeling, Barry?" Caitlin asked sympathetically.

"Like an idiot," Barry groaned, keeping his face in his hands.

"I meant physically," Caitlin said in amusement.

Barry sighed.

"I feel like my head has been split in two," he whined, "How the hell did this _happen_?! It wasn't supposed to affect me like this!"

He gave Cisco and Caitlin an uneasy look then.

"Did…did Joe explain everything to you?" he asked.

Caitlin nodded, giving him a small smile.

"Don't worry," she said, "He explained to us why you had a good reason for coming in here in the state that you did."

"Did he tell you about…?"

"About you being in high school?" Cisco laughed when Barry didn't finish his sentence, "No, actually. _You_ told us that, more or less."

Barry groaned and put his face in his hands again. Before he could say anything else, the same annoying tune from before broke through the silence.

"Turn that damn thing off!" Barry snapped, covering his ears and glaring at his cellphone on the bedside table as if it had personally offended him.

"Actually, I think you should answer it," Cisco said seriously, "I'm pretty sure your underage friends are calling. They've been calling for over an hour."

Barry's eyes widened.

" _Shit_ ," he ejected before scrambling to sit up and grab his phone.

He had eight missed calls from Forest, Justin, _and_ Michael.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Dude!" Forrest's voice answered back, "Where the hell did you _go_?!"

"S-sorry," Barry said slowly, trying to think of an excuse on the spot, "I…I wasn't feeling well. The vertigo made me feel a little sick this time. I guess it's been a while for me, and I took too much. I grabbed a cab and went home to crash."

"We were worried sick about you!" Forrest said seriously, "And the next time I see you, I'm gonna kick your ass, both for taking off without telling us and for doing this to my face!"

Barry could hear the other two boys snickering in the background.

"It's _not funny_!" Forrest yelled at them.

"W-what?" Barry asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Dude, you drew _dicks_ all over my face!" Forrest said incredulously, "Justin and Michael just showed me a video of you doing it. They've been laughing their asses off since we woke up."

" _I_ did that?!" Barry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, you did," Forrest told him, "And you tied my shoelaces together. If you weren't high when you did it, I would seriously kick your ass, West."

"S-sorry," Barry said nervously, "I honestly don't even remember doing it."

Forrest sighed then.

"It's fine," he muttered, "You were high, so I won't hold it against you. _This time_. We're definitely doing vertigo again sometime, though. You were a lot of fun, dude!"

"I was?" Barry asked in shock, "What _else_ did I do?"

Forrest laughed.

"You pretended to be the Flash a lot," he said, "It was hilarious! I wish I had taken a video of it."

"Oh, God," Barry said, feeling his stomach clench, "I didn't do anything…too strange. Did I?"

"Dude, we were _all_ acting strange," Forrest laughed, "That's kind of what happens when you take V, so don't worry about it. You were hilarious!"

Barry sighed in relief. He was just glad that the other boys had been high, too, or his identity would have been revealed right then and there.

"Listen, I've got to go," Barry sighed, "I'll see you in school on Monday, okay?"

"Sounds good," Forrest said, "I'll just be scrubbing my face until then. See ya, Grant."

"See ya," Barry said quietly before hanging up the phone.

He set it down with a sigh.

"I have to go talk to my boss," he said then, reluctantly moving to get out of bed.

"It's nine o'clock at night, man," Cisco said, stopping him from getting up, "It can wait 'til tomorrow."

Barry sighed and slumped back against the pillows.

"I'm so dead," he groaned, "Singh is going to kill me for this."

"He's not mad," Joe's voice came from the doorway when he entered the room.

"He's not?" Barry asked hopefully as Joe moved towards the bed.

Joe chuckled.

"Well, he isn't happy," he admitted, "But he's not mad at you. If anything, I think he feels guilty."

Barry tilted his head in confusion.

"Guilty?" he asked.

Joe nodded.

"He feels responsible for this," he said, moving to sit near the end of Barry's bed, "He insists you only did it because he pressured you too much."

"That's not it," Barry insisted, shaking his head, "I only did it because I thought the vertigo would have no effect on me."

"Well, it did," Caitlin said seriously, "So you need to stay in bed for now, alright? You're probably going to have some minor withdrawal-type symptoms. Vertigo is supposed to be _very_ addictive."

Barry nodded and sighed.

"I…" he said awkwardly, "I didn't say anything too embarrassing to any of you, right?"

Cisco laughed then.

"Dude, I think I cracked a rib laughing so hard at the things you said," he choked.

Barry blushed.

"What did I all say?" he asked nervously.

"Well," Cisco laughed, "You told Caitlin she has a disease because of how pale she is, you hung up on Dr. Wells on the phone, and you started tap dancing in the middle of the cortex when we were trying to get you to go to bed. You ended up knocking over the main computer monitor in the cortex. Dr. Wells wasn't happy."

"Oh, my God," Barry groaned, blushing furiously, "Why didn't you guys just knock me out?! Why'd you let me carry on embarrassing myself like that?!"

"Because it was funny," Cisco snorted.

Barry glared at him as the others laughed.

"It _was_ sort of funny," Joe agreed, "I know I always said I'd tear you a new one if I ever caught you or Iris doing _anything_ drug-related, but I'm willing to let this one slide, just this once."

Barry sighed.

"Is there anything else I did or said that I should know about?" he asked seriously.

Cisco snorted.

"Well, you did send Oliver a shit emoji," he laughed, "He wasn't too happy. He wanted you to call him when you were sober."

Barry groaned and ran a hand over his face.

"Great," he said flatly, "Just what I need, to be chewed out by Oliver right now."

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about Iris," Joe said, "I explained everything to her already."

"What did I say to _Iris_?!" Barry asked seriously, his face turning red.

"Relax," Cisco chuckled, "It was nothing too embarrassing. You just sent her a shit emoji, too."

"Why the hell did I send everyone shit emojis?!"

Cisco laughed and shrugged.

"Dude, don't ask me to explain how your mind works," he laughed, shaking his head, "I barely even understand you when you're sober sometimes. High you was actually pretty insightful, though, You said some pretty…profound things."

"Like what?" Barry asked nervously.

"Well, I now know the origin of the word 'sand,'" Cisco chuckled.

Caitlin and Joe both laughed lightly too as Barry gave the three of them a confused look.

"Sand?" he asked, "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

Cisco shrugged, still laughing.

"No idea," he said, "You talked about some really random things. When we were trying to get you to go to bed, you wouldn't shut up about wormholes and time travel. You kept saying how you were Marty McFly and you were going to travel back to the future."

For the first time, Barry managed a small laugh.

"Where the hell did I get the idea that I could time travel?" he chuckled.

"No clue," Cisco laughed, "But you were pretty confident that you could do it. You kept ranting about how speed and time were related and how Einstein's fourth dimension was real. You kept quoting his theory of special relativity like it was the bible or something."

Barry laughed.

"I learned about that in college," he said, shaking his head in amusement, "It must have just popped into my head for some reason. Actually, if you think about it, Einstein always said that time slows down or speeds up depending on how fast you move—"

"—relative to something else," Cisco finished for him impatiently, "We _know_ , Barry. You told us that probably eighty times."

"Sorry," Barry laughed, "I appreciate you guys looking out for me. I'm really sorry about all of this."

"Don't apologize for accidentally getting high," Caitlin said, "Apologize for not telling us about your work assignment."

"Yeah," Cisco agreed seriously, crossing his arms, "Why didn't you just tell us you were undercover? We could have helped you."

Barry sighed heavily.

"Because it's _my_ work assignment," he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice, "It's my day job, not Flash stuff, and I didn't really feel the need to include you in it. I can handle it myself. I have a _life_ outside of being the Flash, you know."

Cisco and Caitlin raised their eyebrows at him.

"We know that, Barry," Caitlin said in confusion, "We never said you didn't."

"It's just…" Barry said in a strained voice, "Since I became the Flash, I sometimes feel like…like I'm just a set of legs to you guys."

Cisco and Caitlin furrowed their eyebrows at him.

"We know you're more than that, man," Cisco said, frowning at him.

"I know," Barry sighed, "I know you do. It just feels that way sometimes, like my brain is forgotten about, like the person who I was before, like _Barry Allen,_ the CSI, doesn't exist anymore."

Barry ran a hand over his face and let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Sorry," he said, "I guess my psychology class is just starting to get to me. It's my problem, not yours. Just forget it."

"Barry," Caitlin said seriously to him, waiting until he looked her directly in the eyes before continuing, "You're not just the Flash to us, okay? You're our friend, and you're still the same genius CSI that you always were."

"I know," Barry said, giving her a small smile, "Like I said, it's my problem, not yours. Sorry, I didn't mean to get so serious on you guys. Really, I didn't tell you guys about the assignment because I just didn't want you to make fun of me."

"Well," Cisco said, clapping him on the shoulder, "I _have_ to make fun of you because this whole thing is just too hilarious, but I promise to wait until you're feeling better, deal?"

Barry managed a small laugh.

"Deal."

Joe stood up then and clapped his hands together.

"Well, Bar," he said with a laugh, "I got you twenty burgers, sixteen burritos, and twice as many curly fries as usual, per your request. It's a little cold now, but it should still be good."

To their surprise, Barry groaned.

"The last thing on my mind is food right now," he groaned, "I think just the sight of it will make me puke."

"Are you serious?!" Cisco asked incredulously, "You've been telling us non-stop how hungry you are, and now you don't even want a _bite_ of it?!"

"Nausea is a common side effect of withdrawal," Caitlin said understandingly, "It might be a while before your appetite returns."

Barry nodded. His stomach was already churning just at the thought of eating anything right now. Really, he wanted to rest more than anything else at the moment. His eyelids were already growing heavy again, and he had to fight hard to keep them open.

"You should get some sleep, Barry," Caitlin said, noticing his eyelids starting to droop, "It's almost nine-thirty. You should just rest now, and you can eat in the morning."

"Thanks," Barry mumbled as he finally gave up the fight to keep his eyes open, succumbing to his exhaustion.

Tomorrow would be a long day, dealing with the aftermath of today's escapades, but for now Barry would try not to worry about it. For now, Barry would sleep.

* * *

"Barry, just take a deep breath and try to calm down," Joe said gently as Barry flashed around the living room.

"I _can't_ calm down!" Barry said urgently as he frantically searched all of the couch cushions, "Joe, this is bad. This is _really_ bad!"

"Just try to retrace your steps," Joe suggested, sitting down on the couch, "When did you last see it?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Barry said sarcastically, "Maybe a few minutes before jamming a _needle_ into my arm! I can't _remember_ when I last saw it, Joe! That's the problem!"

"Well, panicking isn't going to help us right now, Bar," Joe said reasonably, "Just take a deep breath and think. Where would you have put it?"

Barry took a deep breath that was more of an impatient huff.

"You mean, where would the high version of me have put it?" he asked impatiently, " _I don't know_. I wasn't exactly thinking clearly. It could be _anywhere_! I've searched Forrest's house, STAR Labs, _and_ our entire house. It's just gone!"

"Did you have anything important in it?" Joe asked seriously.

"Nothing too important," Barry said sarcastically, "Just my driver's license, my STAR Labs security pass, my Iron Heights visitor's badge, and my work card that clearly states that my name is Barry Allen and I'm a CSI for the CCPD."

Barry ran a hand through his hair in anguish.

"Joe, if anyone from East Central High finds my wallet before I do, my cover is completely blown!"

"It'll turn up, Bar," Joe assured him surely, "If anyone else found it, we probably would have known by now."

Barry finally allowed himself to take a real breath this time, trying to calm himself.

"You're right," he sighed, trying to lower his blood pressure, "If Forrest or any of the other guys had found it, they would have called me by now, demanding answers. If anything, it's probably laying in the street somewhere between here and the other places I went yesterday. I don't remember much, but I _do_ remember wiping out a lot when I was trying to run. There's a good chance I dropped it somewhere."

"Have you checked the CCPD yet?" Joe asked then.

Barry gave him an uneasy look.

"Not yet," he admitted, "I was kind of putting that off for last. I don't…I don't really want to face the captain yet. Having Oliver lecture me about responsibility this morning was bad enough."

"You're going to have to face Singh eventually, Barry," Joe told him, "He's really not mad at you. You don't have anything to worry about, so I would just get it over with already."

"I'm not worried," Barry said in a strained voice, "I'm _embarrassed_. I made a complete ass of myself in front of my _boss_. I _yelled_ at him! I don't even remember what I all said to him, but I remember enough to not ever be able to look the captain in the eye again."

Their conversation was interrupted then when the front door suddenly opened and Iris rushed in, a gleeful look on her face.

"Oh, my God!" she laughed, rushing over to them, "Oh, my God! Barry, the next time you do vertigo, I need to see it for myself! This is just too good!"

"What?" Barry asked in confusion.

Iris pushed him down onto the couch next to Joe before taking a seat in between them, pulling her laptop out of her bag.

"I think I'm going to die," she choked, barely suppressing her laughter as she opened her computer, "Barry, your Facebook account is blowing up right now!"

"Why?" Barry asked seriously, his stomach clenching, "What happened?!"

Iris laughed.

"You don't remember _posting it_?!" she asked incredulously.

Barry's stomach was now doing somersaults.

"Posting what?" he demanded urgently.

Iris just laughed and brought up Barry's fake Facebook account. The new post on his profile caught his eye immediately. It looked like it was a video of some sort. The heading at the top of the post simply said, 'V gilves mee da movees.' Barry had no clue was that was supposed to mean, but he quickly found out when Iris gleefully hit play on the video.

Barry stared wide-eyed at the screen when the video version of himself came into view. He seemed to be standing alone in his bedroom in front of his computer, wearing one of Joe's hats for some reason. Barry held his breath as the high version of himself in the video cleared his throat and put on a pair of sunglasses. It wasn't until he then hit a button on his computer and **Moves Like Jagger** started to play that Barry understood what the title meant and what was about to happen.

"Nooo," Barry groaned in mortification as the video him started to whistle along with the music.

Barry put his face in his hands and watched through his fingers as high Barry started to mouth along with the sound effects of the song and then broke into a dance.

"Oh, my God," Barry breathed as he watched himself dance to the song,

High Barry slowly raised the hat off his head, readjusting it as he lowered it back to his head with a level of flair and cockiness Barry never thought himself capable of. Barry felt his cheeks heat up as he watched himself spin in a circle. Joe and Iris were laughing their asses off of course, but Barry, in his turmoil, was just hoping the video would cut out before it got any worse.

It didn't.

It continued to play, and it got worse. _So much worse_.

Barry's face turned beet red and he had to look away from the screen, unable to watch himself as he slowly and teasingly lifted his shirt, revealing his abs. Thankfully, he didn't take it off entirely and let the shirt fall back down again before shaking a tantalizing finger at the camera, a smug grin on his face as he continued to dance. Barry was almost worried that Iris was going to pass out from laughing so hard. She could hardly get a breath in.

He groaned in anguish as he watched himself break out into a full dance segment then, mouthing the words of the song and everything. Just as Barry was starting to think about which country he was going to run off to for the rest his life, the video version of himself finally did one last circle and mouthed the last part of the chorus to the song before the video thankfully cut out.

Barry stared shell-shocked at the screen as Joe and Iris continued to laugh. He turned and glared at both of them, which only made them laugh harder.

"Oh, my God, Bar," Joe choked, wiping a tear from his eye, "That just made my day."

Barry glared at him and didn't say anything. His eyes flitted back down to the laptop sitting in Iris's lap, and then he quickly grabbed it from her.

"What are you doing?" Iris laughed as he pulled the computer into his own lap.

"I'm deleting it," he said seriously.

"Oh, no you're not," Iris said, pulling the computer away from him, "If you delete this video, I will never forgive you! Besides, I already saved a copy of it."

"Iris," Barry groaned, "Please just let me get rid of it!"

Iris giggled and shook her head. Joe chuckled.

"Actually, Bar," he said, "This might be a good thing."

"How the hell is me _embarrassing_ myself to death a good thing?!" Barry asked incredulously, his face still beet red.

"Anyone in that school who takes vertigo will know now that you take it, too," Joe reasoned, "Anyone who doesn't will probably not know what 'V' means."

"Or why it gives you the moves like Jagger," Iris giggled.

Barry sighed.

"You're probably right," he muttered, glaring at the computer, "I really can't wait for this assignment to be over so I can just delete this whole account and forget this ever happened."

"I don't know why you're even so embarrassed," Iris laughed, clapping him on the back, "I thought you had some pretty good moves."


	19. It Doesn't Change Anything

**It Doesn't Change Anything**

* * *

David Singh rubbed the tiredness and frustration from his eyes as he listened to the other man's rant. Unlike his other CSI, Southworth didn't really need to be in an altered state of mind to talk back to his own boss. He had been working at the CCPD long enough to be more than comfortable with giving Singh a piece of his mind when he wanted to.

"…I mean, there's no way that this _one_ assignment can possibly be taking up all of the boy's time," the CSI director complained, "Allen has been working on it for _three weeks_ now, and in the meantime, I've been doing all his grunt work for him. I'm his superior. I shouldn't be running fingerprint scans every day so he can go off and work on some mystery assignment for you. Really, what kind of assignment is this that you have _Allen_ doing instead of me?! I'm more qualified than him to perform any CSI skills it may require."

"Don," Singh snapped impatiently, "With all due respect, CSI Allen is more than capable of doing the job I assigned to him. Really, Allen's assignment is none of your concern. Yes, you do have more years of experience than the boy, but to put it frankly, _Barry_ is the best CSI in this department, and I'm getting tired of you coming in here every day with your petty rants about how much better of a CSI you are than him. You and I both know Barry's abilities surpass your own when you were his age."

Southworth's eyes widened in shock from Singh's bluntness.

"Hardly," he gritted, "When I was his age, I wasn't nearly so scatterbrained. I showed up on _time_ , and I didn't ramble on and on about irrelevant things at every crime scene I went to. I showed up, did my job, and went home. I didn't pull half the shit this kid does."

"You were a good worker," Singh agreed, "And so is Barry. He gets the job done in his own way, even if his way is a little strange sometimes, and unlike you, he goes the extra mile in every case assigned to him. Yes, you were a good worker back in the day, but Barry is far more _passionate_ about his job than you ever were. You and I both know that your problem with him isn't about his work ethic."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!" Southworth asked angrily.

"You resent him, Don," Singh said gently, "You've always resented your assistant for his talents."

"That's bullshit," Southworth spat, "Are you implying that I'm _jealous_ of my own employee?! _He_ works for _me_. I have no reason to resent Allen."

"Could've fooled me, with the amount of times you've been in here to complain about the kid," Singh said, rolling his eyes, "Now, get back to work, Southworth. I have more important things to do than sit here and listen to you whine about your coworkers when really the only thing you're actually upset about is the fact that you don't have Barry to pass all your work off to anymore."

Southworth glared at him. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but didn't say anything before turning on his heel and storming over to the door. He roughly wrenched it open, only to come face to face with the very man in question. Barry had his hand raised, ready to knock on the door, a nervous look occupying his face.

"S-sorry," Barry stuttered nervously to the captain at his desk, "I didn't realize you were already talking to someone in here. I can just come back."

"It's okay, Allen," Singh assured him, "Director Southworth was just leaving."

Southworth rolled his eyes and brushed past Barry to exit the office without even looking at the younger man. Barry stared after him in confusion and then turned back to the captain.

"Did I _do_ something?" he asked in confusion, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the doorway that Southworth had just stormed out of.

"No," the captain sighed, "Don't worry about it. It's just petty workplace drama. It's become a daily thing for him. CSI Southworth just has some lessons to learn about delegation."

Barry gave him a confused look, and it was clear he had no idea what the captain was talking about. Singh found Barry's obliviousness to Southworth's resentments towards him somewhat amusing. The amusement was fleeting, though, and the captain then let out a heavy sigh.

"Close the door, Barry," he said quietly.

Barry nodded, a nervous look on his face as he closed the door and crossed the room to sit on the other side of Singh's desk.

"I'm so sorry about yesterday," Barry blurted as soon as he was sitting, "I really didn't intend for things to get so out of hand. I didn't expect it to have such a strong effect on me, and I really hadn't originally had any intentions to come stumbling into the CCPD like that while I was still affected. I was going to report it to you later, though, I _swear_. Things didn't go at all the way I thought they would, and I can't even begin to tell you how embarrassed I am. I can't even remember what I all said to you, but I swear, sir, I didn't mean any of it. It was—"

"Barry," Singh said, cutting him off, "It's alright. You don't have to apologize or explain yourself to me."

Barry let out a large breath of air.

"I _really_ didn't mean any of it, sir," he said sincerely.

"Not even when you called me a dick?" Singh asked, a small smile playing at his lips.

Barry's eyes widened.

"I c-called…?" he stuttered, "I didn't really…? I called you a _dick_?!"

Singh nodded, an amused smile still on his face as he watched Barry squirm.

"Oh my God!" Barry said in anguish, "I'm so sorry, sir! I don't even remember calling you that! I swear I didn't mean it!"

"No, I think you did," Singh said with a small laugh, "I think you meant a lot of what you said to me. You just wouldn't normally say it."

"That's not true!" Barry assured him quickly, "I have the utmost respect for you, sir."

"You can respect someone and still think they're a dick, Barry," Singh said gently, "And as for the other things you said to me…I found them somewhat…insightful. I didn't realize how hard you had been working or that you've been taking on so much extra work without my knowledge. I can see now why you were frustrated, and I don't blame you for harboring some…less-than-fond feelings towards me. I _was_ a dick, and I didn't ever stop to think about the other things going on in your life that you might be dealing with."

Singh gave him an uneasy look upon saying this, but all he could see in the young CSI's expression was confusion.

"What are you talking about?" Barry asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Singh could see the worry forming in the kid's eyes then.

"Sir," Barry said slowly, his expression becoming more worried, "I didn't…? Did I… _tell_ you something I should know about?"

The captain sighed and ran a hand over his face, not sure how he should bring up what Barry had revealed to him the day before.

"I'm going to be candid with you, Barry," he said gently, "You told me some things that I found…surprising."

Singh paused and measured the CSI's reaction to these words. Barry's hands were clenched into fists, and he had a sheer sheen of sweat on his forehead. Singh felt his stomach churn. It was painfully obvious how worried Barry was that he had possibly told him about him being a metahuman, and it was clear that it was a secret Barry was not at all keen on sharing. He looked _scared_ , like the prospect of another person finding out about him and what he was was the most terrifying thing in the world.

It made Singh feel guilty. He knew something about Barry that the kid had clearly never intended to share with him. Singh almost didn't want to tell him what he knew, but he knew it would be better to just be honest with Barry. He didn't fully understand why Barry even seemed so scared. Did he really think he was going to _judge_ him for it? Was he that ashamed of it? Then again, Singh wasn't a metahuman, and he would never fully understand what it must feel like for Barry—what he dealt with on a daily basis.

"You told me you were a metahuman," Singh finally said in a gentle voice.

All the color drained from Barry's face at these words.

"I…" he choked, "I told you…?"

"It doesn't change anything, Barry," Singh assured him quickly, "You don't have to worry about me judging you for it. I know that it's not your fault, and it's not something you have to be ashamed of."

"Did I…?" Barry stuttered, "Did I tell you anything _else_?"

Singh knew exactly what Barry meant.

"You didn't tell me what your powers were," he said softly, "I didn't ask, nor am I going to now if that's something you don't want to share. I understand this was something about yourself you didn't want me to know about, and I can respect that."

"Thank you," Barry whispered, "That…that means a lot, sir."

Singh let out a heavy sigh.

"Barry, I do need to ask, though," he said gently, "Does Joe know? Does _anyone_? Do you have someone in your life you can talk to about this, or have you been carrying this burden yourself?"

Barry shook his head.

"Joe knows," he told him, "I haven't been alone."

"That's…good," Singh said seriously, "That's really good, Allen. I'm glad you have someone you can trust and talk to about it."

"It's not that I didn't trust you, sir," Barry said in a strained voice, "Really, I…I just didn't want to give you a reason not to trust _me_."

Singh furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"Why wouldn't I trust you?" he asked, "Why would this change anything?"

Barry shrugged and looked down at his lap.

"I don't know," he muttered, "Most metahumans…they haven't exactly been a force for good in this city."

"The Flash has been," Singh pointed out immediately, "The Flash may undermine law enforcement, but I believe he's a force for good in this city. Not all metahumans are bad, Barry, yourself included."

"Thank you," Barry said quietly, "I…I really didn't expect you to be so understanding."

"I guess I never gave you reason to," Singh said sadly, "I just…I need to know…is _Joe_ understanding about it, Barry? Please, be honest. Do you feel like you can talk to Joe about all of this?"

"Yes," Barry said immediately, "Yes, Joe is very understanding about it."

"Okay," Singh said quietly, giving Barry a surveying look.

He sighed heavily then.

"Look, Barry," he said slowly, "I'm not saying this to pressure you into telling me anything you don't want to. I just want you to know that I'm here if you ever need to talk. And if you don't feel comfortable with talking to me, I could always arrange to have someone else available for you to talk to. The CCPD has a great therapist on hand for any employees if needed. It's free to all employees and wouldn't cost you a dime."

"I don't need a therapist," Barry said immediately, "Thank you for offering, but I'm fine, sir."

"Are you sure?" Singh asked skeptically, "I would completely understand if you needed to talk to a professional about it. In fact, I _encourage_ you to."

"I don't really care for therapists," Barry said in a strained voice, "Sir, please don't mandate me for therapy. I'm fine, _really_."

"I'm not going to mandate you, Barry," Singh assured him, "I never mandate any of my employees for therapy unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm not going to force you into doing anything if you don't want to. I just wanted to make sure you know you have the option. Barry, this is not a small thing. You've only been awake for three months since the coma, and your whole life has changed. It's a lot for _anyone_ to adjust to."

"My life hasn't changed that much," Barry said quietly, not looking the captain in the eye, "I'm still Barry Allen. I don't have any…identity issues."

"I know you don't," Singh said quickly, "That's not what I meant, Barry. I just meant that it must be a lot for you to keep this secret, even with Joe's support. Even if Joe accepts you for it, that doesn't mean he fully understands it. It must be hard."

Barry sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"It can be," he admitted quietly.

Singh nodded.

"Have you seen a doctor?" he asked, "That…that personal physician from STAR Labs that you brought into work with you last month, does she know?"

Barry nodded.

"She's actually a biomedical researcher," he said, "A geneticist."

Singh's eyes widened.

"Barry," he said gently, "Your doctor, she's not… _studying_ you, is she?"

"No," Barry assured him quickly, "No, it's not like that. She _does_ do research on my cells but only so she can take care of me. She's not using me or anything."

"Is she trying to cure you?" Singh asked quietly.

Barry gave him a strange look.

"Who says I need to be cured?" he asked, sounding somewhat offended, "I'm not trying to get rid of my…abilities. I'm just trying to manage them."

Singh was now more curious than ever as to what Barry's abilities were. Barry had implied that they were somewhat of a burden, yet he wasn't trying to get rid of them. It didn't make any sense.

"Of course, Barry," Singh said quickly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk about your abilities like they were some kind of…illness that needed to be cured. I should've considered that maybe you didn't feel that way. I guess I don't really know _how_ you feel about all of this."

"My powers are a gift," Barry said firmly, "Not a curse. Sure, they sometimes make things harder for me, but I'm not trying to get rid of them."

"Do you use them?" Singh asked curiously, unable to help himself.

Barry gave him an uneasy look.

"Sometimes," he said vaguely, "But I swear, I don't ever use them to…hurt people or do anything illegal. I'm still a good person, sir."

"I know you are, Barry," Singh assured him, "I know you would never abuse your gift."

Barry gave him a small smile, but then he let out a heavy sigh.

"I hope this doesn't change the way you think of me," he said quietly, "I know you've always thought I was a bit strange."

"I'm not going to lie, Allen," Singh laughed, "You've always been…unique, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. This doesn't change anything. You're still a good man and the best CSI in this department."

Singh watched in amusement as Barry's eyes widened at the compliment.

"You…?" he said, "You really _mean_ that?"

"I do," the captain chuckled, "And I was just telling Southworth that before you came in."

"I bet he didn't like that," Barry said seriously.

"But it's true," Singh said firmly, "Allen, I didn't realize before this assignment just how much I've been taking you for granted. Your dedication to this case is parallel to the dedication you've shown in _every_ case I've given you. You're a good worker and an even better man. Your powers don't change that."

Barry gave him probably one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen on the kid's face.

"Thank you, sir," he choked.

The smile suddenly slid from the young CSI's face then.

"Hey, umm…" he mumbled, "Just wondering…have you seen a wallet anywhere?"


	20. Déjà Vu

**Déjà Vu**

* * *

Iris was starting to notice it more and more every day. Barry was getting way too sucked into his assignment. She could see small changes in him all the time. None of them were ever anything major, and she couldn't point out any one thing that was different. It was just all the little things she caught him doing.

"What was _that_?" Iris asked in confusion, when she walked into the living room.

"What?" Barry asked, setting his phone down on the coffee table, where his homework was all spread out.

"Barry, did you just take a _selfie_?!" Iris asked in disbelief.

Barry rolled his eyes.

"It's just snapchat, Iris," he explained.

Iris looked at him in confusion.

"You have snapchat now?" she asked, "Barry, you don't know how to _work_ Snapchat. You always said it was stupid."

"My friend, Natalie, showed me how to use it," Barry shrugged, "I see why people do it now. It has all these funny filters you can use, and it makes texting way more interesting."

Iris just stared at him, but Barry was looking down at his textbook, completely oblivious to the shocked look she was giving him. His attention turned away from his homework then when his phone vibrated again. Barry picked it up immediately and smiled when he read whatever message he had gotten. He immediately started to type on the small screen, completely absorbed in his conversation, as if he had already forgotten she was in the room.

Iris cleared her throat loudly.

"Who are you texting?" she asked curiously.

Barry looked up, as if just realizing she was still standing there. To Iris's surprise, Barry blushed and set down his phone.

"No one," he muttered, returning to his homework.

Iris was more than a little curious now.

"Why are you blushing?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

She was struck by a sudden thought then.

"Barry," she said seriously, "Are you texting a _girl_?"

Barry's blush deepened, instantly confirming Iris's suspicions.

"She's just a friend," he said dismissively, not looking her in the eye.

Iris continued to stare at him, but Barry wouldn't look at her.

"Bar, you're twenty-five years old," she reminded him seriously.

"I know that," he said, rolling his eyes, "I haven't forgotten. I just said she was a _friend_ , didn't I?"

"Yeah, but she might not think of it that way," Iris said seriously, "You shouldn't toy with some high school girl's heart, Barry."

"Did I ever say she was in high school?" Barry retaliated.

Iris raised her eyebrows at him.

"Oh," she said, somewhat flustered now, "Sorry, Bar. I just assumed…"

"That I'm a total creep who flirts with high schoolers?" Barry teased.

Iris laughed.

"No, of course not," she said quickly, "I just know how oblivious you can be. I was here for your party, remember? I saw the way all those high school girls were looking at you."

Barry blushed and shook his head.

"Well, you don't need to worry," he said, "I'm not leading on any minors."

Iris raised her eyebrows at him.

"But you _are_ flirting with _somebody_ , Barry," she said seriously, a small smile forming on her face, "Who is it? Do I know her?"

"I'm not flirting," Barry said uncomfortably, "Like I said, she's just a friend."

"Where'd you meet her?" Iris pressed, not fully believing him.

Barry flushed.

"She's, um….an old friend from high school," he said uncomfortably, "From _our_ high school."

Iris's eyebrows furrowed.

"Who?" she asked immediately, "Do I know her? Is it someone from our class?"

Barry sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"Iris, _please_ don't freak out," he said seriously, instantly causing her to worry, "It's Becky. Becky Cooper."

Iris's eyes widened.

" _Becky Cooper_?!" she shouted, causing Barry to flinch, "Are you _kidding_ me, Barry?!"

"She's not the same girl she used to be," Barry assured her quickly, "She's changed a lot. She's a completely different person now."

"Barry, she _used_ you," Iris said angrily, "She broke your heart and then rubbed your face in it!"

"We were sixteen," Barry said reasonably, "We were just kids, Iris."

"And what about when we were seventeen?" Iris demanded, "Senior year, Barry. Have you forgotten about all _that_?"

"Of course not," Barry said quietly, "But I forgave her for that a long time ago."

Iris let out a noise of frustration.

"Barry, you know I want you to find someone amazing to be with," she said seriously, "But I want you to be with someone who _appreciates_ you for the—"

"For the amazing nerd I am," Barry finished for her, rolling his eyes, "Iris, why do you even care who I date? It's not like it affects you in any way."

"I _care_ ," Iris said angrily, "Because I care about _you_ , Bar. What even compelled you to start talking to that girl again anyways?"

Barry flushed and looked away from her again.

"I…uh," he said uncomfortably, "I may have ran into her somewhere."

Iris furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"Where?" she demanded.

Barry awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

"The school," he muttered, "Becky, she…she teaches there. She may or may not be my…English teacher."

Iris stared at him in disbelief. If it wasn't Becky frickin Cooper, she may have even found it funny, Barry having his ex-girlfriend for an English teacher. She didn't find it so funny under these circumstances, though.

"You're dating your English teacher?" Iris asked in shock.

Barry quickly shook his head.

"How many times do I have to say she's just a friend?" he asked in frustration, "Even if I _was_ still interested in Becky, I wouldn't cross that line. It would be horrible for her career if she was caught dating a student, even a fake adult one."

Iris shook her head in disbelief.

"Barry, this wrong on so many levels," she said seriously, "Not just for _Becky Coooper's_ career, but for _you_. You deserve someone so much better than her. She made high school hell for you."

"No, the man in yellow did that," Barry snapped, causing Iris to flinch slightly, "Tony Woodward and his friends. Everyone else at that damn school who thought I was nuts. The psychologists Joe forced me to see. _They_ made high school hell for me, Iris, not some silly adolescent relationship that ended badly."

Iris opened and closed her mouth a couple times, not knowing what to say. Before she could say anything, though, Barry let out a heavy sigh.

"Please, don't look at me like that," he said quietly.

"Like what?" Iris asked sadly.

"You're giving me the same look you used to always give me in high school," Barry sighed, "Like I'm some lost little puppy you need to take care of. You don't need to worry about me, Iris."

"I just worry about this assignment, Bar," she said quietly, "I worry about what it's doing to you, the bad memories it might bring up. And now that I know Becky's there…"

Barry shook his head.

"It's not like that," he assured her, "If anything, this assignment has been…cathartic. It's a chance for me to get the high school experience I never got to have. I didn't even realize it was something I'd enjoy until I started the assignment. While some parts of it haven't been fun, it's actually been a _positive_ experience. You have nothing to worry about."

Iris gave him a small smile, feeling just a little bit reassured.

"Besides," Barry laughed, "It could be worse. I could have my ex, _Vanessa,_ for a teacher."

Iris didn't laugh. Instead, her eyes darkened.

"If you had Vanessa for a teacher, I'd go to that school right now and rip that girl's hair out," she said furiously.

Barry laughed nervously at the threat.

"Don't worry," he assured her, "I think it's safe to say we'll never see Vanessa ever again."

Iris nodded darkly. Before she could say anything, her father suddenly entered the room, interrupting their conversation.

"Hey, Bar," Joe said with a confused look on his face, "This just came in the mail for you."

He handed Barry a large envelope that looked like it contained some sort of small object. Barry stared at the writing on the envelope in confusion, and Iris glanced at it over his shoulder.

Barry Allen  
556 East Maple Lane  
Central City, USA

The address was written sloppily in Barry's own handwriting, and when she looked at the return address, it said it was from "Grant West."

"You sent mail to _yourself_?" Iris asked in confusion.

Barry looked just as confused, although Iris didn't know why. It was clearly addressed in Barry's handwriting. How could he not remember sending it?

He quickly opened the envelope and tipped out its contents, and when he did, a small wallet fell into Barry's lap.

Barry let out a sigh of relief.

"Why the hell would I do that?" he groaned.

Barry's wallet. He had mailed it to himself.

* * *

Joe let out a heavy sigh as he drove to the small high school. As much of a pain as this was, he had to do it to keep up appearances and he had to admit: he was curious. He hadn't been to a parent-teacher conference in years, and he was curious to hear what Barry's teachers were going to say about him.

Being a smaller school, parent-teacher conferences were run very differently at East Central High than they were at Barry and Iris's old school. With less students attending the school, teachers were able to meet with parents independently, allowing close one-on-one sessions to discuss their child's education.

Joe's first meeting was with Barry's anatomy teacher, Mr. Kurin. He was an older man and according to Barry, he was an excellent instructor—one of Barry's favorites—and Joe quickly learned that Barry just so happened to be one of Mr. Kurin's favorite _students_. It was easy to see why.

"Your son should consider working in medicine," Mr. Kurin told him seriously, "He's gifted in the field. The way he grasps physiological concepts…honestly, he could probably teach the class. He seems to know most of the material already, and the way he does dissections…he works with a surgeon's precision."

Joe had to fight back a laugh. Of course, Barry would shine in anatomy class. He was in forensics. Barry wasn't a coroner, but he had performed autopsies before. He probably knew far more about how the human body worked than the teacher, himself, did.

Joe's meeting with Barry's Spanish teacher went rather differently. It was clear from the start, Barry was no star student in that particular class.

"Your son seems to be extremely shy," Senora Broder said to Joe, "He hardly speaks in class, and when he does, it seems to be only a few words here and there. He doesn't seem comfortable with _speaking_ the language, but his homework assignments are a work of art. He's very fluent in his writing, and he does well on the exams. I just need to work with him more on his oral Spanish skills."

Joe knew why this was, of course. Barry had been speed reading the Spanish dictionary every time he had to do an assignment or take an exam. It made him rather fluent in the language on paper, but it didn't magically make him able to _speak_ it. Technically, it wasn't cheating. Barry was just short-term memorizing the vocabulary. Even if it _was_ cheating, Joe couldn't fault Barry for it. It _was_ kind of unfair of him and Singh to stick Barry in a third-year level Spanish class when he didn't know the language. Granted, the whole point of it was so that Barry would be _bad_ at it. Of course, Barry was still getting an A in the class. He was getting A's in all his classes.

All but one.

"You mind explaining to me why a forensics expert with a double major in chemistry and physics is getting a 'C' in a high school chemistry class?" Joe said flatly when he sat down with Mr. Agnew.

Or should he say, Detective Abbot.

"You and I both know his grades don't matter," the undercover detective said, rolling his eyes.

"Regardless," Joe persisted, "Barry's a perfectionist, and you and I both know his chemistry knowledge is far more advanced than your own."

The other detective rolled his eyes again.

"It's for his _attitude_ ," he said dismissively, "Are we actually going to discuss Allen's academic performance in this meeting? I was under the impression we had more important things to discuss. This is your case, too, isn't it?"

"Yes," Joe replied stiffly, "But I'm working it from the outside, and I have other cases on my plate right now. This is more Barry's case now than it is mine. Barry's the one who's undercover here, and he's the one you're supposed to be working with. He said you've been reluctant to work with him."

"I compared notes with the kid," Abbot said impatiently, "What more do you want?"

"He's twenty-five," Joe said seriously, "He's not a _kid_. And he said you hardly told him any of the information you've managed to dig up. So tell me, is that because you don't want to work with him or because even after a _year_ here, you haven't managed to find any leads?"

Abbot flushed indignantly.

"If he's not a kid, then why does he have his foster father fighting his battles for him?" the detective snapped, "He may be in his twenties, but he fits in with these seventeen-year-old punks perfectly with that attitude of his. Excuse me if I don't want to share my year-long investigation with an immature, twenty-five-year-old rookie who isn't even a detective."

Joe smiled and shook his head.

"You're just bitter that Barry's closer to solving the case than you are," he said, "And because he embarrassed you in front of a classroom full of teenagers. He only did that after _you_ tried to embarrass _him,_ by the way, and you choosing to not put your heads together on the case while kids are _dying_ is downright petty. Yet, you call Barry the immature one."

Abbot looked like he had been slapped in the face. Joe smiled as he stood up to leave.

"You know, I thought Barry was exaggerating what a pompous ass you were," he said pleasantly, "Thank you so much for clearing that up for me."

With that, Joe left the room, leaving the other man to stew bitterly in his words.

Joe's next meeting with Barry's psychology teacher went much better, but it wasn't exactly pleasant. The conversation had started out normally, but it took an unpleasant turn.

"Grant is great with participating in our class discussions, and I can tell he puts a lot of thought into the subject and his assignments," Mrs. Stewart said approvingly, "He disagrees with my theories sometimes, but he's always respectful about his opinions."

"What do you disagree on?" Joe asked curiously.

Barry was actually an extremely opinionated person, Joe had learned over the years. Most people didn't see that side of him, though, because Barry wasn't very outspoken about his opinions. He wisely kept them to himself to avoid conflicts, whether it was politics, religion, or in this case, psychology. Barry wasn't one to ever openly disagree with teachers, but Joe knew Barry had always a personal dislike for psychologists, so he was curious to know how Barry was processing his psychology class. Joe hadn't realized until after Barry had started the assignment that maybe psychology wasn't the best class to put him in. It was bound to bring up some touchy subjects for him.

"He agrees with me on most things," Mrs. Stewart said, "But there are certain topics he seems to struggle with. Hero Complex Syndrome, for example, seemed to strike a nerve with him, and when we talked about PTSD, he didn't participate in our class discussions as much as he usually does."

Joe felt a twisting sensation in his stomach. He now really regretted putting Barry in this class. He should have thought it through more.

"I have to ask," Mrs. Stewart said gently, "I've noticed of course that you and Grant are…"

"Different races?" Joe said with a small smile.

Mrs. Stewart nodded.

"It's obviously your business," she said seriously, "But I try to know the personal history of all my students, and I've noticed Grant seems to be different from most boys his age. And now, meeting you…I'm just curious to know the history there."

"You mean what happened to his parents," Joe said sadly, understanding her curiosity, "They passed away when he was eleven. Car crash."

Mrs. Stewart nodded seriously.

"I just have to ask," she said gently, "Does Grant have any history of childhood trauma?"

Joe's stomach flipped.

"No," he said in a strained voice, "Aside from losing his parents unexpectedly, he…hasn't been through any trauma."

Mrs. Stewart nodded thoughtfully.

"Sorry," she apologized, "I just had to ask."

"What made you think that?" Joe asked seriously then, wondering what Barry had said or done to make her come to that very accurate conclusion.

The teacher shook her head.

"It was just a feeling," she said dismissively, "He seemed rather closed off when we were discussing childhood traumas in our PTSD unit. I thought maybe there was an underlying reason for it, but he was probably just having an off week."

Joe nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "That was probably it."

Joe hardly paid attention in his next meeting with Barry's gym teacher, Mr. Zenner. He was still going over everything that had been said during his conversation with the psychology teacher. He should have thought more about this before pressuring Barry to accept this assignment. He thought it would be a neat opportunity for Barry to redo high school, but now he was worried about the memories it would bring to the surface. The whole thing was now giving Joe a very bad feeling.

Joe's attention was pulled back to the present, however, when he caught a part of what Mr. Zenner was saying.

"What was that?" Joe asked in confusion.

"I said your son is one of the most athletically gifted students I've ever seen," Mr. Zenner repeated, and then continued, "He seems to thoroughly enjoy the class. Granted, that's true for most high school boys. Gym always seems to be their favorite class."

Joe raised his eyebrows in surprise. Barry had always despised gym class. It was the only class in high school he was ever bad at. He was always bullied by the other boys in his class, and it had always sapped his enthusiasm for gym.

"I see a lot of all-stars, Mr. West," the teacher told him, "I see them pass through this school every year, kids who are gifted in athletics. Most of them are particularly good in a single sport or athletic area, but Grant…I've never seen such an athletically well-rounded student before. I know he's on the track team, but I think he should consider trying out for other sports. He'd make one hell of a receiver for the football team."

Joe had to fight back a laugh as he thought back to Barry's football team tryout in high school. It wasn't really funny, though, and there was a reason why he had promised Barry he'd never bring it up again. It was still a sore subject for him.

"I don't think football is really his sport," Joe said simply, "Grant's only ever really been interested in track and cross country."

"That's too bad," Mr. Zenner said, "He's a gifted student. He could probably excel in any sport, if he set his mind to it. His reflexes are incredible."

Joe gave him a serious look then.

"He hasn't been showing off, has he?" he asked seriously, worrying about Barry compromising more than one identity.

Mr. Zenner gave him a confused look.

"Quite the opposite, actually," he said, "I often get the sense that he's holding _back_."

Joe nodded in approval.

"Okay," he said, feeling relieved.

He knew Barry could control himself, but Barry could also be extremely competitive. He had always been the competitive one in the family. That had never translated into athletic competitiveness, so to speak, but things were different now that he had powers.

Joe's next meeting with Mr. Colback, Barry's sex ed teacher, was fairly uneventful. Mr. Colback didn't have much to say about Barry. One comment stood out to Joe, though.

"Grant is probably my favorite student, at least as far as the _boys_ in my class go," Mr. Colback sighed, "He's definitely mature for his age and doesn't joke around as much as the other boys his age do."

Joe laughed lightly and shook his head.

"Man, I don't envy your job," he said sympathetically, "Teaching sex ed to a bunch of teenagers is about as bad as it gets. I'm glad to hear my son has been making it easier for you."

A small smile spread across Joe's face as he was struck by a sudden thought. He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't…

"You know," Joe said anyways, "Grant loves helping out his teachers. If you ever need a student to help give presentations or anything, Grant's your guy."

Joe could hardly contain his laughter as he left the meeting. Barry was going to kill him.

As Joe made his way to his last parent-teacher conference, his laughter subsided. This was the one he was looking forward to the least, even more so than the meeting with Detective Abbott.

"Hi, Mr. West," Becky said nervously when Joe entered her classroom.

"Becky," he said stiffly.

"Actually, it's Rebecca now," she corrected lightly, "Very few people still call me Becky."

"Barry does," Joe deadpanned.

Rebecca laughed lightly.

"Yeah, well, that's Barry," she said fondly.

Joe didn't smile, though, and Rebecca let out a heavy sigh.

"Look, Joe," she said in a strained voice.

"Detective West," he corrected flatly.

"Detective West," she repeated, twisting her fingers, "I know there's a lot of bad history between Barry and me, but…I'm not the same person I used to be."

Joe shook his head slowly.

"Did you ever even care about my son?" he asked seriously.

Rebecca nodded emphatically.

"Of course, I did," she said earnestly, "I just…"

"You just used him and manipulated him when he was lonely and emotionally vulnerable," Joe gritted, "Do you have any idea what Barry was dealing with when he was in high school?"

"I know he had a lot of stuff going on with his dad," Rebecca nodded guiltily, "…and with you."

Joe's stomach twisted slightly at these words.

"Yet, you didn't hesitate to break his heart," he said coldly.

"I was a stupid teenage girl at the time," Rebecca said sadly, shaking her head, "I didn't realize what I was doing. Or I didn't _care_. I was selfish and stupid, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for the way I treated Barry."

Joe sighed and shook his head.

"I guess all we can do now is let the past stay in the past," he said quietly.

If Joe had learned anything throughout his parent-teacher meetings tonight, though, it was that avoiding the past was easier said than done. Being in "Grant's" high school certainly did give Joe a horrible sense of déjà vu.

* * *

 **I realize I made a lot of references to Barry's past without elaborating on what exactly happened. To be clear, Becky used and dumped Barry junior year in order to make another guy jealous. Senior year, Barry dated Vanessa (From** ** _A Mother's Nightmare_** **), who spread awful rumors about him with Becky's help. You don't need to know all the details. Really, all you need to know is that there was a lot drama there.**

 **For more insight on Barry's high school experience, read my story** ** _The Darkness_** **. It's not completed yet, but I consider it canon for the show and all my stories. In my head, that's what Barry's high school experience was like. Note that the story focuses more on Barry and Joe than it does on his adolescent relationships, though.**


	21. The Final Stretch

**The Final Stretch**

* * *

"This is weird."

Iris smacked Eddie on the arm.

"It's not weird," she insisted as they walked through the stands, "We're supporting Barry."

"Yeah, except Barry's not really in high school," Eddie whispered with a small laugh.

Iris laughed as they walked. It didn't take them long to find her dad in the stands. She waved cheerfully at him, but he didn't seem to see her. He was gazing out at the track field, a nervous expression on his face.

"Dad," Iris laughed as they approached him, "You look way too gloomy for a track meet."

Her dad's head snapped to look at her in surprise, and a small smile forced its way onto his face.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "Was just thinking about work."

His face still had a hint of worry occupying its features, though, as he looked back out at the track field. The team had just left the locker rooms and were now making their way onto the field.

"There's Barry!" Iris shouted excitedly, pointing out at the track field.

" _Iris_!" Joe hissed, giving her an urgent look.

Iris clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Whoops," she whispered, "Sorry. I meant Grant."

She couldn't help but laugh then.

"Oh, my God," she giggled, pulling out her phone to take pictures, "I haven't seen Barry in shorts since high school!"

Barry was currently standing with the rest of his team, all of them stretching and warming up for their events. He seemed to noticeably tower over the rest of his teammates, and the short running shorts he was wearing made his legs look even longer. It was similar yet so different to how he looked back in high school. Barry wasn't anywhere near the same scrawny high school kid he used to be. Iris couldn't wrap her mind around it.

When did Barry's legs get so toned?

"What is Barry running today?" Eddie asked Joe curiously, breaking Iris away from her train of thought.

Joe glanced briefly at him, peeling his eyes away from the field for only a moment. He was watching Barry like a hawk, a serious expression on his face.

"Sixteen-hundred meter," he grunted.

Eddie raised his eyebrows.

"Barry's running the sixteen-hundred?" he asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Mm-hm," Joe replied, frowning out at the field.

Eddie nodded slowly as he watched Barry run a warm-up lap around the field.

"Impressive," he whispered.

Track wasn't really the most exciting sport, as far as spectating went. The sheer energy and school pride exhibited by East Central helped make up for that, though. There was a surprising number of people in the stands, thanks to the clement spring weather. Iris spotted Barry's friends down in the lower portion of the stands, laughing and joking around with each other as they waited for the event to start.

She couldn't help but stare curiously at them. They actually weren't so different from the guys Barry used to hang out with in high school. Granted, Barry's old friends never did drugs, but they _had_ gone to parties every now and then, and they had certainly joked around with each other the same way Barry's friends now were in the stands. Iris wondered sadly what had ever happened to Matt and Cam. They had been Barry's closest friends in high school, but Barry hadn't talked to them in years. She supposed they hadn't been able to handle everything Barry had been dealing with in his adolescence. They were great friends, but when it came to the stuff with Barry's dad, they hadn't always been the greatest with supporting him.

How much could you really expect from a couple of high school kids, though?

And then of course there was all that stuff with Barry's girlfriend, Vanessa, senior year. Like with Becky, Barry had been so lonely and isolated at the time, he had gotten way too invested in his relationship. He just didn't want to be alone, and having a girl show interest in him had always caused him to care too much. He would put everything else on hold. School. Sports. His friends. Maybe that was why he didn't maintain his friendship with Matt and Cam. He had been too focused on other things.

After high school, it was CSI school. All Barry cared about at the time was his dad. His dad trumped everything else, even his relationships. That was why his college relationships never really worked out. It was why he had so few friends, even today. No one ever fully understood him and his aspirations. At least he had Cisco and Caitlin at STAR Labs now, and he would always have her. Barry could only maintain relationships with people who understood.

The track events passed by quickly, despite the sheer number of kids competing. It took a while before Barry's event came up, but they didn't mind waiting. It had been a while since any of them had been to any kind of sporting event, and they were just enjoying themselves. To Iris's surprise, Eddie got really into it. She knew he was a sports fan, but she hadn't expected him to get so enthused over a high school track meet. Eddie was cheering along with the rest of the crowd, though, his competitive side showing when he bounced up and down in his seat when an East Central student finished first.

Her father, however, was a different story. He was still just sitting there, a dull and somewhat _worried_ expression on his face. When Barry walked out on the track to line up with the other runners, her dad sat up straighter in his seat, his eyes trained on Barry. Iris looked out at the field too, just as Barry looked up at them. A huge grin spread across his face when he spotted them and waved happily. When his eyes landed on Joe, though, the smile slid from his face and was replaced with a serious expression.

Barry held up two fingers then, a questioning look on his face. Iris looked over to see her dad frown and shake his head, holding up three fingers. Barry nodded and gave him a thumbs up before stooping down into his starting position.

Iris was completely baffled.

"Runners, on your marks! Get set…"

A boom of a gun, and they were off, taking off down the field at a fast but steady pace. They were running the longest event, so none of them were fully sprinting. They all paced themselves, conserving their energy as they made their first lap.

"Wow, Barry's in second," Eddie said as they completed the first loop around the field.

Iris laughed.

"What? Did you think he'd be lagging behind the group?" she joked.

"No," Eddie chuckled, "He _is_ twenty-five, though. Most guys don't really keep in shape after college, and I've never seen Barry in the CCPD gym."

"He goes for runs in the mornings," Joe muttered absently, not taking his eyes off the field, "It's why he's always late."

"Oh," Eddie said with a shrug, "I guess that explains it. You should have seen him when we were chasing down that lead on Tony Woodward last month. The guy we were questioning took off on us, and I thought Barry had fallen behind, but then he was suddenly in _front_ of us. He didn't even seem to break a sweat."

"Hm," Joe hummed absently, not looking Eddie in the eye.

"He's in first now!" Eddie said in shock as Barry completed the second lap.

Joe mumbled something incoherently under his breath at these words, frowning as he looked out at the field.

"What's wrong, dad?" Iris asked again, unable to ignore it anymore, "You look like you're ready to hit someone."

"Nothing," he shrugged, "I'm glad Barry's doing good. I just…hope he's pacing himself. He has two more laps to go yet."

Iris frowned as she looked back out at the field. Her dad was acting really strange. In the past, he would have been bouncing up and down in his seat at one of Barry's track events. He would have been shouting and cheering like a madman to see Barry in first. Now, all he was doing was sitting there with an intense look on his face, his hands clenched into fists. The only time she had ever seen him like this while watching a sport was during the 2007 Packer game against the Giants. She had never seen her dad look so pissed off while watching sports.

"Look at the _lead_ Barry has!" Eddie gasped, "He's almost half a lap ahead of them!"

Iris blinked and focused on the field in front of her, just realizing now she hadn't been paying any attention. Looking now, she saw that Eddie was right. Barry was _way_ ahead of the other boys on the track, and he didn't even seem like he was breaking a sweat! The other guys all had exhausted looks on their faces as they ran, but Barry didn't even seem _winded_. Iris couldn't help but cheer with the rest of the crowd.

"Go Grant!"

Something suddenly then shifted in Barry, though. He looked behind him as he ran, something Iris had never seen him do before. Really, _no_ runner ever looked behind them while running an event. They always just focused on their goal—on reaching the finish line. When Barry turned his head back around, he had a troubled look on his face. He looked…nervous.

And then he stumbled. Out of nowhere, Barry suddenly lost his footing and stumbled slightly. It wasn't a big trip, but it was enough. He lost his momentum then. As he tried to regain his footing, Barry's pace slowed significantly. He was in the final stretch now, nearing the finish line, and Iris couldn't help but bite her fist as the other runners started to close the distance between them and Barry.

Her heart sank when one of them passed him, and then another, just before the finish line.

He finished third.

"Ah, he was so close!" Eddie shouted in frustration, punching the air.

Iris gave him a small smile.

"I think Barry will survive," she sighed, feeling just a bit disappointed herself.

Barry wasn't that invested in this anyways, though. He had told her just this morning that he wouldn't even care if he finished last. Still, though, it would have been cool to see him finish first, just to prove he was still the same track star he was back in high school.

"Barry has enough trophies," her father said, a small smile appearing on his face.

It was the first smile she had seen on his face all day.

"If only he hadn't stumbled though," Eddie groaned, still not over his disappointment, "What even happened? It was like he lost focus."

"Guess we'll have to ask Barry," Iris said quietly, turning her head to look thoughtfully out at the field.

Barry was standing with all the other runners, who were all hunched over, trying to catch their breath after the long run.

Barry wasn't even sweating.

* * *

" _Barry_ , are you paying attention?"

"Huh?" Barry said, looking up from his phone.

Cisco rolled his eyes and pointed at Barry's textbook.

"Subjunctive verbs," he sighed.

"Right," Barry said, pocketing his phone and sitting up straighter in his seat, "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Cisco sighed and continued where he left off.

"In Spanish, you use the subjunctive form of the verb whenever there's uncertainty."

"Right," Barry said, rubbing his temples with his fingers, "And you just switch the conjugations around, right?"

"That's right," Cisco nodded, giving him an encouraging smile.

"Which would be really easy," Barry sighed, "If I knew how to conjugate them the normal way…which I don't."

Cisco sighed and dropped his head down on the cortex desk.

"Why?" he groaned, "Why the hell did Joe put you in this class? You don't even have the _basics_ down, so how are you supposed to learn the advanced conjugations?!"

"That's what _I_ said," Barry agreed, equally frustrated, "I don't even know how to count past _ten_ in Spanish."

Cisco blinked at him.

"You don't even know your _numbers_?!"

"How _would_ I?" Barry retorted, crossing his arms, "I've never taken Spanish, Cisco."

"Your high school didn't have it?" Cisco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course it did," Barry shrugged, "It just wasn't mandatory, and I was more interested in science. And I never took it in college because I was going for a B.S. degree, not a B.A. I never had any reason to take it."

Cisco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked up again, he let out a loud groan.

"Well, you're never going to learn it if you can't get off your damn phone for two seconds."

Barry didn't answer him, though. He continued to look at his phone, a small frown on his face.

"What is it?" Cisco asked, irritation forgotten when he saw the look on Barry's face.

"It's…it's a text from Singh," he answered quietly.

Without elaborating, Barry suddenly stood up from his seat.

"I'm sorry, Cisco," he said in a rush, a distressed look on his face, "I have to go. Something's happened."

Without another word, Barry flashed out of the cortex, scattering all the papers that had been on the desk in front of him. Cisco let out a heavy sigh as the papers fell around him.

" _Es imposible."_

* * *

Barry's stomach was in knots as he rushed into the CCPD, wasting no time in getting to the captain's office.

"Come in," Singh replied tiredly when Barry knocked.

Barry wrenched the door open immediately.

"Barry," Singh said in surprise, straightening up in his seat when Barry entered, "You got here fast."

"I was already in the area," Barry dismissed quickly, "Who was it?!"

Singh let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face.

"Noah Piers," he replied, "He's a senior at East Central."

Barry's stomach twisted.

"I know him," he said quietly, "He's in my glee club."

Singh nodded solemnly.

"The M.E. is examining him now," he said, "We're almost certain it was an overdose; Dr. Griffin just has to confirm it."

Barry let out a heavy sigh and sank down in the chair across from Singh's desk. He hadn't particularly liked Noah, considering the kid had been salty towards him ever since Barry "stole" his solo, but he had never harbored any ill will towards him. The kid was harmless.

And now he was dead.

"I'm so sorry," Barry breathed, dropping his head in his hands.

"This isn't your fault, Barry," Singh assured him sadly, "It was out of your hands."

"I could have prevented it," Barry insisted, a look of anguish on his face, "If I had just found the dealer, Noah would still be alive."

"No," Singh said firmly, "This isn't on you. You've been working the case, making tremendous progress. You're doing everything you can. The only person responsible for this is the supplier."

"I haven't made that much progress," Barry disagreed, "I'm not anywhere near finding the supplier. I have no _clue_ who it could be."

"But you've managed to infiltrate the users," Singh pointed out, "You've gained their trust. That in itself is a huge accomplishment, Barry."

"But it's not _getting_ me anywhere," Barry gritted, clenching his fists in frustration, "I feel like I'm just chasing tails here! I know who's using the stuff, but I don't know where they're getting _…_ "

The words died in Barry's throat, his mouth hanging open as he was struck by a sudden thought like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

"What?"

"I have to go!" Barry blurted, abruptly standing up from his seat, "I'll touch base with you later!"

With that, Barry rushed out of the office, hurrying through the CCPD as fast as he could without running. As soon as he made it out of the building, Barry took off, moving as fast as he legs could carry him, with one destination in mind.

East Central City High School.


	22. The Day from Hell

**Warning: Awkward scene in sex ed class**

* * *

 **The Day from Hell**

* * *

Barry rushed through the high school, nearly tripping several times as he maneuvered his way through the twisting hallways, heading for the chemistry wing. When he made it to his destination, he closed the door with a snap and spun around.

"Who are all the students you know who take Vertigo?" he demanded, breathing heavily.

Detective Abbot looked up from his papers, an irritated expression on his face.

"What?"

"Who are all the students you know who take Vertigo?" Barry repeated frantically.

"I already told you," Abbot huffed, "Forrest Jacobson, Justin Baker, Michael Walters, Travis Evans, Natalie Fischer, Harvey Olsen, Tracy Novak—"

"And she's friends with Santana Lopez, right?" Barry pressed.

Abbot nodded.

"Another known vertigo user," he confirmed.

Barry huffed out a heavy breath.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" he fumed.

Detective Abbot raised his eyebrows.

"Excuse me?"

"No," Barry gritted, "I don't think I will _excuse_ you. Kids have been dying because you've been missing what's been right in front of you this entire time."

"What are you talking about?" Abbot demanded impatiently.

"You've been here for over a year," Barry fumed, "And you seriously never noticed that every kid in this school who takes vertigo is either in glee or has friends who are in glee?"

Detective Abbot's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I don't exactly keep up with petty student affairs," he huffed, rolling his eyes.

"That's your _job_!" Barry nearly shouted, "What the hell are you even doing here if you don't even pay attention to student relations?!"

The older detective crossed his arms.

"We're not looking for _users_ , Allen," Abbot said, "We're looking for _suppliers_ , for the people who are distributing—"

"And we find the suppliers _through_ the users!" Barry persisted, throwing his hands in the air, "The _students_ , they're our focus. But I guess keeping up with 'petty student relations' is beneath a man of your stature. If you had just gotten over your own arrogance and done your job, you could have solved this case a long time ago!"

"And who are you to tell me how to do my job?" Abbot gritted indignantly, "I've been a detective for fourteen years, Allen. What the hell do you know about operating undercover? You're just a nerdy lab rat with a young face. That's the only reason you're even here: your face. I don't know who you think you are, telling me how to—"

"Noah Piers is _dead_ ," Barry gritted, his hands curling into fists.

Abbot blinked at him.

"What?"

"He was found dead in his room this morning," Barry choked, "Vertigo overdose."

Barry turned away from him then, bracing a hand on the whiteboard as he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I didn't even know he was using," Abbot said in shock.

Barry sucked in another deep breath and shook his head, still facing the whiteboard.

"Neither did I," he said quietly, the anger sapping out of him, "Noah wasn't on my radar. I had no clue."

He turned around then, looking at Abbot with tears in his eyes.

"But I think I know where he got it."

Abbot's eyebrows furrowed at him.

"Glee?"

Barry nodded darkly.

"It's all connected," he said, grabbing a marker.

He started writing on the whiteboard.

"Noah was in glee," he said, frantically writing down names, "Todd Swenson, the kid who overdosed over winter break, was the lead soloist for the club. Forrest Jacobson and Michael Walters are friends with Justin Baker and Natalie Grey, who both are in glee. Harvey Olsen is dating Tiffany Yanish, who's in the club. She doesn't use, but _he_ does and could be getting it from her. Santana Lopez and her friends—"

"Okay, I get it," Abbot said, waving his hand impatiently.

"It all ties back to glee," Barry insisted, tapping the board, " _That's_ where this stuff is coming from."

"Allen, half the school is taking it at this point," Abbot pointed out, "Just because a lot of them happen to be in glee, it doesn't mean—"

"I'm not saying it's _only_ the glee kids," Barry said impatiently, "I'm just saying it's a lot of coincidences. Vertigo may have spread throughout the school by now, but g _lee_ club is where it started."

Abbot furrowed his eyebrows, frowning at the board.

"I don't know about this," he said skeptically, "Are you sure you're not just seeing what you want to see? Connecting dots that aren't really related?"

"When did vertigo first appear in this school?" Barry persisted, setting down his marker.

"Last March," Abbot answered without hesitation, "At least, somewhere around that time."

"And it originated in Starling?" Barry pressed, already knowing the answer.

Abbot nodded impatiently.

"And East Central High's glee club competed in a tournament with Starling last February," Barry said, "One month before vertigo started making an appearance in this school."

"Allen…"

"That's how it spread," Barry continued, "That's how it got from Starling to here. The glee competition."

Abbot let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes.

"Okay, so let's say for a moment that you're right about this."

"I _am_ ," Barry insisted.

"Okay…" Abbot said slowly, "So now what? If we know it started in glee, how does that help us? What are we supposed to do with this information? This stuff is circulating the entire school now. There could be _multiple_ dealers handing it out."

"But they're getting it from _one_ supplier," Barry insisted, "Maybe two at most. We're not just looking for who's _dealing_ it. We're looking for who's supplying it _to_ the dealers. The primary source, that's what we're looking for here. The root of the weed."

"It'd be easier to do if we could find a dealer," Abbot pointed out, "We need to infiltrate that glee club, figure out who's spreading it and work our way up from there."

"I'm already doing it," Barry told him.

"You're in _glee_?" Abbot asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am," Barry nodded, "Being in student clubs is part of my assignment."

Abbot shook his head and let out a small laugh.

"Wow," he said, "And I thought faculty meetings and grading papers was bad. Thank God I was assigned as a _teacher_ and not a student."

Barry managed a small laugh.

"The curse of having a young face," he joked, shaking his head.

He let out a heavy sigh then, becoming serious again.

"I'll dig further into it," he assured the detective, "I've been focusing on all the wrong things when I should have been focusing on _glee_ of all things. I'll give this my full attention now."

Abbot nodded seriously.

"Okay," he said, "Be sure to keep me updated."

"I will," Barry nodded, heading towards the door.

He paused with his hand on the handle, though, taking a deep breath before turning around to face the older man.

"And I'm sorry," he said quietly, "For blaming you for Noah's death. I only just found out about it, and I guess I was a little upset and looking for someone to blame. I shouldn't have pinned it all on you. That wasn't warranted."

Abbot nodded and to his surprise, gave him a small smile.

"It's okay, Allen," he assured him, "We're going to get to the bottom of this. No more kids are going to die on our watch."

Barry's lips twitched slightly, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"I'm going to make sure of it," he said firmly.

With that, he exited the classroom. As he made his way down the hallway, Barry couldn't help but think to himself that maybe he and Abbot weren't so different after all. They both cared a great deal about this case, about preventing any more kids from dying. Sure, Abbot was a dick.

But he was a dick with morals.

* * *

Barry was having a bad day. A _really, really_ bad day.

Surprisingly, it didn't start with his first hour class, taught by his previously least-favorite teacher, _Mr. Agnew_. Chemistry was fine. Uneventful. Even kind of _boring_ , considering how rudimentary the material was to him. The only thing that annoyed him that class was his lab partner, Brian, who came to class almost every day with new questions to ask him about his life as the Flash.

 _Do your parents know what you do? How do you keep it a secret?_

 _Where did you get your suit? Did you make it yourself?_

 _Is it true you know the Arrow? Are you guys friends? Do you hang out?_

 _When on earth do you sleep?! How do you get your homework done?_

Although annoying, Barry had grown used to Brian's questions. He had come to expect them, so his chemistry class wasn't much different than usual.

No, it was his second class that started out his worst day at East Central High.

"No one wants to volunteer?" Mr. Colback, the sex ed teacher, asked desperately, "It's for extra credit?"

Barry looked down at his desk, like all the other students in the room, trying to make himself look as small as possible while not making eye contact with the teacher.

"Mr. West," Mr. Colback said, causing Barry to cringe and close his eyes in anguish, "How about you? Your dad said you'd be willing to help out if I needed someone."

Barry looked up at the teacher with wide eyes, his hands curling into fists under the desk. He was going to murder Joe.

"I'm good," he tried to say, "I'd rather just observe."

"Nonsense," Mr. Colback said pleasantly, "Come on up here. Be a good sport!"

Barry shuddered internally as he let out a heavy sigh, shakily rising from his seat to slink to the front of the room. His eyes landed on the basket of condoms sitting on the table in front of him, right next to an unnecessarily large banana. Barry let out a heavy sigh. He just needed to tear off the bandaid, get this over with as quick as possible so he could return to the sanctuary of his desk.

This whole demonstration was so unnecessary. Barry couldn't help but roll his eyes as he grabbed one of the square packets from the basket and tore it open. Seriously, wasn't this all kind of self-explanatory? Who doesn't know how to put a condom on?

A few of his classmates snickered when Barry picked up the banana. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at their immaturity. Without looking anyone in the eye, Barry slid the condom onto the banana as fast as he could.

"There," he said flatly, setting the banana down.

Mr. Colback stopped him before he could return to his seat, though.

"Hang on, Mr. West," he said cheerfully, "Would you mind explaining it to the rest of the class?"

Barry sucked in an impatient breath through his nose, not hiding his irritation with the teacher, who was suddenly incapable of teaching his own class and was now relying on _him_ to do it.

"Make sure the rolled up part is on the outside, and leave a little space at the end," Barry clipped before returning to his seat.

Mr. Colback nodded and smiled at him in appreciation.

"Well done, Mr. West," he praised.

Barry just shook his head in irritation. The rest of the class was still giggling. Barry was almost sure he had seen a few people taking _pictures_ of his little presentation. Forrest was laughing particularly hard. Barry was so not looking forward to all the shit he was going to get for this.

His third class wasn't much better. Barry went to glee class with high hopes of figuring out who the dealer was. As it turned out, that was a lot easier said than done. He tried to mentally catalogue all the students in the class that he knew took vertigo, but he quickly realized that was over _half_ the class! Seriously, how had he not realized that sooner?!

Glee was a lot more somber than usual, considering they had lost one of their members. Everyone seemed to be thrown off by the death of Noah Piers. The whole school was talking about it, but the members of glee club were particularly shaken by the unexpected loss. None of them really liked Noah all that much, but his absence in the class weighed heavily on all of them.

It wasn't exactly fun to sing and work out dance routines when half the class was crying.

Spanish class was a complete disaster! Barry had forgotten all about his Spanish homework, which was still sitting on the cortex desk at STAR Labs, where he had been studying with Cisco. His phone call from Singh had caused him to completely forget about it. He could have raced to STAR Labs to get it, but it wasn't even finished, and Barry didn't have time to run there _and_ complete the homework in time for class.

Not only did he receive an incomplete for the assignment—the first one in his _life_ —but he had also left his Spanish dictionary there and couldn't speed-read it to prepare for class. He ended up making a total idiot of himself by not knowing any of the answers when he was called on. Hell, he didn't even understand the _questions_.

As predicted, lunch was brutal to sit through. Forrest had, of course, told everyone of Barry's little presentation in sex ed class. They all laughed as Forrest passed around his phone, sporting a picture of a red-faced Barry holding a banana in one hand, a condom in the other. Barry may have used a little more force than necessary when he punched Forrest in the arm in retaliation, before standing up from the lunch table.

"Where are you going?" Justin asked, choking back his laughter.

"Just need to talk to Beck—Ms. Cooper about my English paper," he said in irritation.

"You sure do spend a lot of time with Ms. Cooper," Michael smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really," Barry said, awkwardly wringing his hands, "I just need to ask her a question about my paper."

"Yeah, but you leave lunch early at least once a week to…'ask her questions,'" Forrest said, a mischievous grin spreading on his face, "You tapping that, Grant?"

"W-what?" Barry sputtered, his eyes going wide, "N-no. Of course not!"

"It's okay," Justin laughed, "We're not going to tell anyone. Seriously, good for you man! Ms. Cooper is smokin'!"

"I am _not_ sleeping with Ms. Cooper," Barry said angrily, "She's my _teacher_!"

"Is that why you guys eye fuck each other in class every day?" Michael laughed, "Seriously, dude. You guys aren't very settle about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Barry said firmly, "There's nothing between me and Ms. Cooper."

"Then why are you asking her about a paper that isn't even due until the end of the semester?" Michael smirked, "We haven't even finished reading the _book_ yet. How can you possibly be working on your paper already?"

"I like to work ahead," Barry said stiffly.

The others all laughed and shook their heads.

"Whatever you say, man," Forrest chuckled, "Have fun 'talking' with your cougar."

Barry shook his head in frustration, his hands balling into fists as he stormed away from the lunch table. He really liked his friends, but sometimes they could be real assholes.

It didn't help that he had his English class right after lunch. All throughout the class, Michael kept smirking at him, even though Barry continued to insist that there wasn't anything going on between him and Becky. As it happened, the class discussion they were having didn't help matters.

"Can anyone tell me the reason behind Charlie's anxiety surrounding his date with Alice?" Becky asked the class.

Of course it was Michael who raised his hand.

"Because she used to be his teacher," he answered, sending Barry a knowing look.

Barry shook his head and glared at Michael.

"That's partly it," Becky agreed, "A part of him still sees her as Ms. Kinnian, an authority figure in his life. However, the problem between them is much more complicated than that. It has more to do with _Charlie_ than it does Ms. Kinnian…"

As Becky went on explaining the internal struggles of the protagonist in _Flowers for Algernon,_ Barry was sure to keep his head down, taking careful notes in his notebook to avoid looking at her. It seemed like every time he glanced up, however, Becky was looking at him. Every time, he would quickly drop his head again, determined not to make eye contact. Now he knew what Michael had been talking about at lunch. They _did_ tend to look at each other a lot. For the sake of Becky's career, they really needed to be more careful.

It wasn't like there was anything going on between them anyways. Sure, they flirted sometimes, and Barry was strangely happy to have Becky back in his life again, but only as a friend. He was still hopelessly in love with Iris, and there was too much bad history between him and Becky for them to ever become romantically involved again. Barry was content to just be friends with her, and he had made that quite clear. He was here to solve a case, not to flirt with his English teacher.

Anatomy and Physiology wasn't particularly horrible, compared to his other classes. They had been doing dissections all week. Many in the class didn't find the lab particularly appealing, especially since they were dissecting cats. When asked, Mr. Kurin informed the class that the cats had come from the humane society after not being adopted. While this didn't sit well with most people, Barry was just thankful to be dissecting a cat and not doing an autopsy on a murder victim. These kids had no idea just how gruesome dissections in the real world could be.

Granted, today he was a little more disturbed by the dissection lab when he discovered that the cat he had been dissecting had been pregnant. He hid this information from his clueless lab partner. She was squeamish enough, as it was. Barry had taken pity on her and done all the labs on his own so she wouldn't have to get her hands dirty. She was a cat lover, so it was the least he could do, the same as how it was the least he could do to not tell her that their cat was pregnant. Needless to say, dissecting a dead cat full of baby kittens was just the cherry on top of his shitty day.

By the time he made it to gym class, Barry was more than a little weary. He was just ready for this horrible day to be over with. They were in the middle of their swimming unit in gym class, which Barry had officially determined to be his least favorite unit. He wasn't exactly fond of swimming. It wasn't like he was bad at it or anything. He just never really cared for it, mostly because his first true experience with swimming was Joe pushing him into the deep end to teach him how to swim. To Joe's credit, it had worked. He knew how to swim just fine now. But that experience had ridden him of any fondness he had ever had for swimming, if not even slightly _traumatized_ him.

The _swimming_ part of the swim unit was that bad, though. Barry didn't enjoy it, but he didn't have a problem with it either. In fact, he was easily the fastest swimmer, and since his body was capable of exchanging excessive amounts of oxygen when he ran, Barry's lung capacity was practically inhuman. He could stay under the water for excessive amounts of time. As his gym teacher put it, he was practically a fish in the water. Barry still didn't care for it, though. Land was his element and where he was most comfortable. He only liked water when he was running across it, and he hoped to God he would never come up against a villain who took the fight to the water.

While he didn't enjoy swimming, that wasn't the reason Barry considered this his least favorite gym unit. No, it was the girls in the class. It was the way they giggled amongst themselves as they eyed him up in his swimming trunks. The way they whispered to each other and stared at him like he was their own personal eye candy. Barry would blush and do his best to ignore them, but it was particularly hard to do when they swam close to him, sometimes even brushing _against_ him! Every time, Barry would recoil in a panic. They were all around _sixteen_. He was almost _ten_ years older than them! That kind of thing could get him _arrested_ if he wasn't careful.

Barry felt like he was going to be sick as he showered off in the locker room after class. Obviously, they were in a school, and everything stayed completely innocent. Still, though, there was nothing _innocent_ about the way those girls had been goggling at him, particularly one Jackie Dombrowski, who seemed to have developed quite the infatuation with him. Barry didn't understand it. He had never even _talked_ to the girl. He had barely said more than two words to _any_ of them.

He didn't understand why all these high school girls found him so interesting. That certainly hadn't been the case when _he_ was in high school, and as an adult he didn't exactly have women crawling all over him. What was _with_ these girls?! There were plenty of other guys at this school they could bother and goggle at. Why on earth were they so interested in _him_?!

Barry let out a heavy sigh as he turned the water off to the shower. He had taken longer than usual, having gotten distracted by his thoughts. All the other guys had left the showers and were dressed by now. Barry moved to do the same, but he froze when he reached around the curtain for his towel, his hand sliding along an empty wall.

It wasn't hanging on the hook.

Barry pulled back the curtain and looked around, thinking it must have fallen onto the floor, where it was now sure to be soaked. There was nothing there, though.

His towel was _gone_!

"Um…hey guys?" Barry called, his voice echoing around the locker room, "Has anyone seen my towel?"

There was no answer. Barry was pretty sure he heard the faint echo of snickering from the other side of the locker room, though. He looked around in a panic and realized his swim trunks were gone, too. Someone had taken them.

"Guys!" Barry shouted furiously, "This isn't funny! Bring me my damn towel!"

He was so not in the mood for this shit, not after the horrible day he had had.

Forrest and Justin suddenly appeared then, standing outside of the shower, stifling back their laughter.

"You mean _this_ towel?" Forrest jeered, holding up the towel he had taken.

"Ha. Ha," Barry said flatly, his head still poking out from behind the curtain, "Very funny, but I have a psych exam to get to before the bell rings, so cut it out and give it back now."

"Hmm," Forrest smirked, twirling the towel in his hands, "I don't know about that. I seem recall waking up with a bunch of dicks on my face last month. I think payback is in order."

Barry goggled at him.

"Are you _serious_?!" he sputtered, "I was _high_ when I did that!"

"High or not," Forrest snickered, "I had to scrub my face for two hours after that. I think this evens the score."

"Forrest," Barry growled, "I know you're just pulling a prank right now, but this _isn't_ funny. I have to get to class!"

"Go on then," Forrest said, choking back laughter, "You don't want to be late."

"Give me my towel, Forrest," Barry gritted.

Forrest looked down at the towel in his hands and then back up at Barry, a smirk on his face. The little shit.

"Nah," he said, "I think I'll keep it. It's much more fun to watch you go to psychology class naked. I wonder what Mrs. Stewart will say."

With that, Forrest and Justin walked away, laughing manically.

"Guys? Guys!" Barry shouted, "Come on! This _really_ isn't funny!"

Barry's mouth dropped open in shock with he heard the locker room door open and close, the sound of the other boys' laughter disappearing. They weren't actually _serious_?! They _couldn't_ be serious! What the hell kind of joke was this?! This was one of the worst pranks Barry had ever had pulled on him, and that was saying something, considering his past high school experiences. This was the kind of shit _Tony Woodward_ would pull on him in the locker room.

It wasn't the same, though. This wasn't bullying. It wasn't done out of cruelty, like with Tony. It was done out of friendship. It was a prank between friends. While Barry was happy to be close enough with these guys that they could pull pranks on each other, he didn't find it particularly funny at the moment.

"Hello?" Barry called from the shower, closing his eyes in frustration, "Is anyone else in here?"

No reply. The locker room was empty now. Barry cursed when the bell sounded. He had only four minutes to get to class, and he was bare naked and dripping wet in the shower. He poked his head out the curtain again. There was no one around.

Fuck it.

Barry left the shower, shivering as he walked naked through the boy's locker room. For a moment, he registered the fact that he was a grown adult man, naked on school property, but he was in a locker room and there weren't any minors around, so pedophile charges were the least of his worries at the moment.

No, Barry was more concerned with the fact that his gym locker had been emptied of all his clothes. Even his _shoes_ were gone.

"Assholes," Barry groaned.

He was sure Forrest and Justin were probably having a good laugh about the whole thing, but Barry found none of this funny. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Just wait in here until someone could come and help him? He was going to miss his entire class then, and the last thing Barry needed was to deal with truancy issues. Some prank.

Barry stood there for several minutes, thinking and ignoring the sound of the school bell that signaled he was late. He would think of something. He was the Flash. He could handle _any_ situation, especially a dumb high school prank like this. Barry thought over all his options before coming to a conclusion. Really, there was only one thing left to do.

He ran.

Still bare-ass naked, Barry ran out of the boys' locker room and high-tailed it the hell out of the school, moving at super speed. He didn't slow down, determined to run fast enough so that no one would see the Flash running naked through Central City. The last thing he needed was for people to start calling him the Flash- _er_.

Barry gritted his teeth as his ran barefoot through the city. Within a few blocks, his feet were bleeding from running on gravel and concrete. On the bright side, at least he was dry now. Barry would have run home, but Joe's house was on the other side of the city. His apartment building—which he hadn't been to in weeks—was just as far. Instead, Barry ran to STAR Labs, which was a lot closer.

Without hesitation, Barry flashed into the cortex and dressed himself at superspeed, pulling on a STAR Labs T-shirt and sweatpants.

"Hey," Cisco said, blinking at him in surprise, "What are you doing here? Doesn't school end at—?"

"No time to explain," Barry clipped, "I need your shoes."

"You need my…?"

"Your shoes!" Barry said impatiently, "Take them off!"

Cisco furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he started to pull off his shoes. As he was taking them off, he noticed the bloody footprints Barry had tracked through the cortex.

"What the hell happened, dude?!"

"A dumb high school prank," Barry said, rolling his eyes, "I had to run here for clothes, and it didn't do any favors for my feet. I need shoes so I can get back to the school, and I can't exactly wear my Flash boots."

Cisco tossed him his shoes and stared in confusion as Barry flashed them on.

"Why the hell were you _naked_?!" Cisco asked in astonishment.

"No time to explain," Barry said hurriedly, "Sorry about the blood. I'll buy you a new pair."

"Hang on, man," Cisco said quickly, "Maybe you should have Caitlin take a look at your—"

Barry flashed out of the cortex.

"—feet," Cisco sighed, "Well, that was weird."

Barry made it back to the school in record time, his feet aching horribly in Cisco's too-small shoes, which were now smoking and singed around the edges from the run. By the time Barry made it to class, he was only a few minutes late. Thankfully, Mrs. Stewart didn't scold him for it. She never really scolded him for being late like other teachers did. For some reason, the woman seemed to have a soft spot for him. His psychology teacher always spoke to him in an almost too-gentle voice, as if he were made of glass. Barry had no idea why that was, though.

As Barry sat down in his desk, trying to catch his breath, he realized just how terribly his feet were aching. The wounds on the soles of his feet were throbbing from all the running he had done, and the small shoes he was wearing didn't do anything to help with the pain. He hardly paid attention to a single word that was said in class. He just wanted this day to be over.

It wasn't over though. He still had track practice.

Barry winced with each step he took as he walked out onto the track field. Practice was going to be miserable with his feet in the condition they were in. As Barry walked out onto the field, Michael grinned at him.

"Heard you had an interesting afternoon," Michael laughed lightly as Barry joined him on the field.

Barry didn't laugh.

"Interesting isn't the word I'd use to describe it," he muttered.

Michael let out a light laugh.

"Forrest goes a little too far with his pranks sometimes," he chuckled, shaking his head, "If I had been there I would have stopped it."

"Would you?" Barry asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, "Because Justin didn't. He just went along with it."

"Yeah," Michael sighed, "That's just Justin for you, though. He always goes along with whatever Forrest wants to do, whether that's vertigo or pulling a dumb prank."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows.

"Vertigo?" he asked, momentarily distracted from his anger, "What do you mean? Like, Justin doesn't want to take it?"

Michael looked away uncomfortably.

"I mean," he said slowly, "It's not like he says _no_ to it. Most of the time he's down for a little vertigo sesh, but every once in a while, he's not really up for it. Forrest tends to have a way of talking him into it, though."

"He pressures him," Barry concluded, a sour taste on his tongue.

"I don't know," Michael shrugged, "I guess you could say that. Forrest and Justin have been best friends since they were kids, and…don't tell Justin I said this, but he tends to kind of… _idolize_ Forrest. He looks up to him and he's always sort of been in his shadow. Forrest is always the one calling the shots."

Barry looked down in thought, running over Michael's words in his head. He looked up again, giving Michael a serious look.

"Do _you_ feel that way, too?"

Michael laughed loudly and shook his head.

"Nah," he said, "If Forrest tries to pressure me into anything stupid, I just tell him to fuck off. I keep telling Justin he needs to start doing the same, but it's hard for him. They've been bros since they were kids. I moved here in the eighth grade and became friends with them later on. I'm close with them and all, but not as close as they are with each other. Justin will do everything Forrest tells him to do, and Forrest is _very_ aware of it."

"He takes advantage," Barry said quietly.

"Forrest is a good friend," Michael said quickly, "He just doesn't think sometimes. He always takes things a little too far, and he really enjoys messing with people. He manipulates people. It used to be to get whatever he wanted, but now I think he sort of just does it because he _can_. It's all just fun and games to him. He doesn't mean anything by it."

Barry nodded slowly, deep in thought.

He had seen it before. Forrest _did_ tend to manipulate people for his own advantage or amusement. Hell, he had even manipulated _Barry_. He had talked him into hosting an underage party he had never had any intention of throwing. He had backed him into a corner and convinced him to buy alcohol for them, saying that if the party didn't happen, there would be no vertigo, all the while promising Barry he would introduce him to the dealer, which he still had yet to do. Forrest knew Barry wanted to meet their dealer, and he used that to get whatever he wanted from Barry.

Now that Barry thought about it, he was starting to see just how manipulative Forrest could be.

He hadn't seen it before. Forrest was his _friend_ , after all. He was likeable. Charismatic. He was good-looking, smart, and quite charming when he wanted to be. He was a perfect student and could pretty much get any girl he wanted. Everyone liked Forrest Jacobson.

And he took full advantage of that.


End file.
